Finally
by Evendale
Summary: What if... Aunt Prudence had not interrupted that fateful moment. An exploration of Jack and Phryne's relationship. Warning: absolutely M-rated!
1. Chapter 1

Phryne looked up into his eyes and said, with a touch of sadness in her voice: "Jack Robinson. The man who always does the right thing. The noble thing." He paused and watched her for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision. He moved in closer and softly whispered, "Not always, Miss Fisher".

The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, and his lips were on hers in a tender kiss. She was taken aback for a moment, but quickly decided that she quite liked this new development. With a fierce rush of joy, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Encouraged by her obvious approval, his kisses became more passionate, and he ran one hand down her back, enjoying the feel of the silk robe under his fingers, while his other hand tangled into her hair. After a long moment, they broke apart, breathless, and regarded each other with uncertainty and longing. "Jack", she whispered, looking up at him questioningly. "Phryne…" he responded huskily, "You know I love you. It has taken me a long time to admit, even to myself, but I don't want to deny it anymore. I know you are independent. I know you live dangerously. I know that living with you might mean losing you, too. But I don't care anymore, I don't want you to change. You're an amazing woman, Miss Fisher, and I should be lucky to call you mine. If you'll have me, of course…" he trailed off uncertainly.

She looked up at him with candor and openness, and he saw nothing of the usual teasing in her eyes. "Of course I will", she said simply, and he enfolded her once more into his arms. It was enough.

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_Author's note: WARNING - from the next chapter onwards it's pure smut!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

He managed to maneuver her to the wall and kissed her fiercely, unwilling to waste a single second now that they had both made their feelings plain and could finally give in to the desire that had been building between them for months. He ran his hands feverishly over her body, savoring the pleasure of finally being allowed to touch her, to finally feel the curves he had only dreamt of touching, to taste the soft skin of her throat as he kissed it, and to hear her sigh and feel her shiver at his touch.

As she pushed herself against him, he abandoned his last ounce of restraint and swept her up into his arms. If they were going to do this, he sure as hell was going to do it right. "Well Jack", she smiled teasingly, "how very forceful of you. You certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet." She wrapped her arms around his neck and nibbled his earlobe as he carried her up the stairs. The stab of excitement that surged through him was so strong, he nearly dropped her to take her right there, in the middle of the stairs, and to hell with propriety or privacy. Instead, he merely growled and kept going, heading straight for her bedroom, where the silk sheets were waiting invitingly.

He put her down softly on the bed and shrugged off his coat and jacket. She sat up and drew him closer to help him undo his tie and the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. She smiled languorously at the sight of his bare chest, and leaned forward to kiss his stomach, sending another stab of desire through him. "Oh Phryne", he sighed, and kneeled before the bed so they were eye to eye. "I have wanted you for so long." She heard the emotion in his voice, and decided against a cheeky answer. She simply put her hand against his cheek, and smiled at him with so much love that he could hardly bear it. He put his hand over hers and turned his face to kiss her palm, then the inside of her wrist, then the soft underside of her arm. The fabric of her robe impeded further progress upwards, so he decided it should go. With a quick upwards glance for permission, which he readily received, he untied the knot of her silk robe, and tenderly brushed it aside to reveal a white shoulder. He moved up to kiss it, moving slowly, savoring each moment, wanting it to last. As he started kissing her neck, his hands began to roam over her body, and he felt her quiver under his touch.

Phyne was surprised at her reaction to the Inspector's attentions. She had taken many men to her bed, but this was different. This was Jack. And he was touching her, not with superficial lust, but with such longing and tenderness, it made her body respond immediately. Her desire for him washed over her, and her impatient nature took over as she pulled him down onto the bed with her, and kissed him passionately, nimbly undoing his belt in the process. She could feel his excitement begin to build and teased him by softly stroking him through the fabric of his trousers. He responded with a growl and threw her onto her back, kissing her fiercely. He then pushed himself up onto his elbow for a moment to enjoy the sight of her on the bed, eyes half closed, stretched out with her robe falling open and revealing her creamy skin and silk underwear. For a moment he just stared, unable to believe his luck. Then she opened her eyes, smiled saucily at the expression on his face, and a moment later she had wriggled out of her underwear. He gasped at the sight of her nakedness, but she did not allow him much time to ponder.

"Now you are shamefully overdressed, Inspector", she teased, and started working on the button of his trousers. For a moment he was overcome with wonder and joy at her enthusiasm. He had only a vague idea that sex could be pleasurable for women as well as for men; his ex-wife had never seemed to enjoy the activity much, making it clear that she was merely fulfilling her marital duties. He had never taken any other lovers. And now here was Phryne, clearly as eager as he was, her breathing quick and shallow, her pupils dilated with desire. What a wonderful woman she was.

She crowed triumphantly as she managed to undo his trouser button and zipper, and assisted him in removing his last items of clothing. Finally they fell back together, skin on skin, and he nestled himself between her thighs, his eyes not leaving hers. He wanted the moment to last, but she cried out plaintively and wrapped her legs around his waist "Jack, please…". He hesitated for just one more moment before he couldn't resist anymore and sank into her. A moan of pleasure escaped his lips. He was surprised at how wet she was, how willing, the way her hips moved with him at every thrust. He plunged into her, deeply, and was rewarded with a soft cry of pleasure as she rose up to meet him. They easily found a rhythm and soon he was gone from the world, nothing existed anymore, nothing, nothing was real except for her, her body moving in sync with his, her lips parted, her fingernails digging into his back, her legs wrapped around his waist to draw him in, again and again. He cried out her name as he felt the tension build, and fire engulfed him as he reached his peak; he heard her cry out too, and finally felt the joyful release sweep through him.

He collapsed on top of her, even in his dazed state careful not to put too much weight onto her body, but she only drew him closer. They rested together, their limbs tangled, their breathing softly slowing, happy that they were finally able to hold each other, to find the intimacy they had both longed for. He moved off her to lie beside her, and she nuzzled his neck and settled her head in the hollow of his shoulder, sighing contentedly. Through a daze of happiness and satisfaction, Jack vaguely thought again what an amazing woman she was.


	3. Chapter 3

He must have dozed off, because he woke suddenly to the sensation of Phryne kissing his chest. He was immediately alert and tried to sit up in order to take her into his arms and kiss her, but she pushed him back into the pillows with a gentle but decisive hand. "Just lay back for a moment", she smiled promisingly, and he felt a shiver of anticipation run through him as he slumped back into the pillows with a contented sigh. She continued her kisses from his collarbone over his chest and down to his stomach, each kiss leaving a trail of fire on his skin. Jack closed his eyes as he felt his excitement mount again. He was sorely tempted to try and take her into his arms again, but he did not want the kisses to stop, either.

A moment later though, his eyes flew open in shocked surprise as her kisses reached his navel... and she continued her way downward. . He quickly pushed himself up on an elbow and put his hand gently under her chin, tilting her head upwards so he could look into her eyes. He saw nothing but love there, and a knowing look. "It's alright Jack", she said softly, and tried to continue kissing him, but he held his hand firmly under her chin. He knew what she was planning to do, and he knew it was a disreputable thing. He had heard that you could pay certain ladies of the night to perform that particular service, but he had always found the idea of visiting prostitutes distasteful, and had no experience in the matter. "Phryne… that's… it's not right. Not for a lady. It's not… proper."

At that, she sat up and smiled saucily. "And when have you ever known me to do what is proper, Inspector", she quipped, but he did not smile in return. "Come on, Jack. It's only you and me here. Why don't we decide what is proper or not?" She moved closer, and he felt his breath catch at her sudden nearness. Lips tantalizingly close to his, she whispered seductively, encouragingly: "I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy it." A frown still creased his brow, but her closeness was starting to fog his brain. When she reached down and lightly stroked him, he could feel his resistance melting away. "I don't... it's not..." were the last feeble objections he managed to utter, before she closed her hand around him and a wave of pure pleasure extinguished every further thought. He fell back into the pillows with a sigh, closed his eyes, and decided to trust her greater expertise in these matters.

He felt her move down the bed and felt a great surge of excitement mingled with apprehension. A moment later her soft, warm mouth closed around him, and he gasped loudly at the exquisite sensation, her lips closed around him, the warm wetness of her tongue moving slowly, exploring. He felt he would go mad if she kept this up. But there was more to come, and he moaned and reached down and tangled his fingers into her hair as she moved down his shaft and increased suction. "Oh… God", he gasped, how had he never realized just what a woman could do, how had he never known this, how was it possible that she could bring him so much pleasure in such an unconventional way, how could he have thought that this was _wrong_?

She started moving up and down in a slow but steady rhythm and he lost all sense of time as he allowed himself to be swept up in the moment, and felt nothing but the utter pleasure she was giving him, taking in as much of him as she could, and her tongue… oh God, _what_ was she doing with her tongue! He felt his excitement build quickly, too quickly, soon he would not be able to control it anymore. He needed every ounce of will-power he had to reach out to her and indicate with a hand on her cheek that she should stop. She looked up and softly said "I don't mind, Jack." But he was firm this time, this was a line he was not prepared to cross. She gave in and moved up to straddle him, and a new wave of pleasure washed over him as she sank down on him and started moving, his hands on her hips. What a glorious sight, he thought hazily, watching her move above him, her hair tousled and her face lit up in ecstasy. He noticed that her hand was between her legs, stroking in the rhythm of their movements. The sight was too much for him to bear, and he finally allowed himself to let go, sparks erupting in his brain as he gripped her more tightly and felt the orgasm break over him. A moment later, she cried out and shuddered, then fell forward onto his chest. For several long moments, neither of them moved, basking in the warm glow of fulfillment they both felt, enjoying the closeness and warmth of each other's bodies.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: as you may have noticed, I decided to take the morals of the 1920's into account in this story. While Phryne is a very experienced woman, as we all know, most respectable men (and women) at the time had no knowledge whatsoever about sex, other than the basic facts of reproduction. There was no one to tell them about it, and books on the matter were strictly forbidden. Since Jack is a respectable man, who has been married to a respectable woman, I can't imagine that he would know much about sex in general and female sexuality in particular. In fact, his poor wife probably never knew much about female sexuality, either. But I also believe that Jack would be keen to experiment, and that he could certainly evolve throughout the story. I will add new chapters shortly. _

_In the meantime, **reviews** would be **very** much appreciated! I really enjoy sharing my imagination with you, and I would be delighted to hear what you think!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

When Jack awoke early the next morning, he was immediately aware of her absence. Suddenly wide awake, he looked around the bedroom, which was still half-dark as the heavy curtains had not been drawn yet. He was starting to worry that she had left him there to go about her business as usual, until the sound of splashing water from the adjoining bathroom reassured him. She was just taking a bath. He slumped back into the pillows with a contented sigh, and closed his eyes as last night's events came flooding back to him. How he had finally taken her into his arms, and carried her up the stairs… Undressing her…The way their bodies had tangled on the bed… And then, most vivid of all, the memory of Phryne doing that unspeakable thing to him, and how unspeakably good it had felt. He remembered her straddling him afterwards, the first time a woman had been on top of him, but he didn't mind in the slightest. The view had been excellent.

He saw again her flushed face, her small breasts, her hand between her legs… He wondered idly why she had done that. Then an idea suddenly dawned on him, an idea that was completely novel and completely irresistible. His eyes snapped open and he pushed himself out of bed, overcome with the desire to try it out immediately. He quickly put on his trousers, and headed for the sound of splashing water. He didn't knock on the bathroom door, but pushed it open quietly and stepped inside. A great wave of love flowed through him as he saw her sitting in the bath, so white and so vulnerable, exposing the soft curve of her throat as she leaned her head back against the tub. For a moment he was sorry for disturbing her, but then she opened her eyes and gave him a lazy, happy smile. 'Good morning, Inspector', she purred. 'I hope you slept well?' He smiled back at her. 'Why yes, Miss Fisher, for some reason I slept exceptionally well, though I can't imagine why that would be.' At that, her smile became a little less innocent. 'Maybe I should remind you, then.'

His breath caught as she rose from the bath in one fluent movement, and stood there before him, rivulets of water running down her ivory skin, from her shoulders, between her breasts, over her stomach and the inviting curve of her thighs. She seemed completely unabashed under his gaze, and he felt himself flush at such a brazenness. For a moment he was torn between two of his deepest instincts: she seemed so beautiful and fragile, standing there in the open, a part of him just wanted to rush to her, fold her into his arms and protect her from the world. A second part of him (the part that was currently straining against the material of his trousers) just wanted to rush to her, fold her into his arms and take her right there on the bathroom floor. However, he had other plans, so he suppressed this particular ungentlemanly impulse and picked up a towel from a nearby chair. It was clean and white, and luxuriously soft, and he opened it wide, inviting her in. With a smile, she stepped out of the bath and crossed the bathroom slowly, and the wetness glistening on her skin almost made him change his mind. But when she reached him and allowed him to fold her firmly into the towel and into his arms, he only felt a great and aching tenderness.

Unable to move, she looked up trustingly into his eyes and whispered, with a hint of amusement and anticipation: 'And now what, Jack?' In reply, he picked her up, still enveloped in the towel, and carried her back to the bed, where he put her down carefully and started to unwrap her. She murmured approvingly and rose up to take him into her arms, and for several long moments they sank into a deep, slow kiss. When he felt her hands start to roam towards his trousers, however, Jack broke the kiss and pushed her gently down onto the bed. 'Not so impatient, Miss Fisher,' he rumbled in his deepest voice. 'It's my turn now.' She lay back, her still damp hair fanning out darkly over the satin pillow, and positively squirmed in anticipation. 'I'm all yours, Inspector,' she murmured sweetly.

Now it was his turn to trail kisses down her body and feel her shiver. When he reached her triangle of dark curls, she raised an eyebrow with a surprised but pleased 'oh!', and opened her legs to him. Her smell was sweet and clean, and Jack breathed in deeply as he settled comfortably between her legs. He wasn't really sure how to go about this, but he was nothing if not inventive, and he was sure she would stop him and steer him in the right direction if he did something she didn't like. So he pressed his warm mouth to her, and used his tongue to explore this unknown territory. The way she gasped and tilted her hips to allow him better access immediately told him he was on the right track, and he smiled smugly to himself before continuing his explorations. He let his tongue run over and between her folds, until he found access and pushed in deeper. She moaned hungrily, and he experienced a new, exciting, salty taste on his tongue that eagerly made him return for more. He kept on licking and probing, thoroughly enjoying himself and the effect he was having on her, until her hand on his cheek made him look up.

'Jack,' she whispered, and he saw that her eyes were dark and her face flushed. She put her hand between her legs, parted the folds, and put a slender white finger on a spot that didn't seem particularly interesting to Jack. 'Here,' she whispered, and he obeyed her without thinking. When his tongue reached the indicated spot, she withdrew her hand and tangled it into the sheets instead. He started exploring curiously, and to his surprise discovered a small node that he could easily manipulate with his tongue. As he did so, she suddenly arched her back and started moaning, tangling her other hand into his hair, pulling him even closer. Jack Robinson was not a man who was easily impressed, but he was thoroughly impressed now. How in heaven's name was this possible? How could she have parts he didn't even know about?! Marveling in silence at the wonder of female anatomy, he continued his quest and noticed that her breathing came quicker, and her moans became louder.

Suddenly he felt her trying to pull him upward. 'Jack,' she breathed, 'I want you, now.' But he shook his head and redoubled his efforts, rendering her helpless as she gripped the sheet convulsively. He didn't feel like stopping at all. He was intrigued now, and even though he was sorely tempted to take her, he wanted to see where this was going. He felt instinctively that this could not be all of it, and he felt that this was the time for a thorough investigation. She moaned pleadingly, 'Oh Jack, I need… I want…' He thought he knew what she meant. Never losing contact, he slowly shifted position so he could use his right hand, and, watching her reactions closely, he slid a finger inside. He immediately knew he had done the right thing. She cried out softly and arched her back even further as he explored her with the tip of his finger, marveling at what he discovered, the texture, the warmth and the velvety wetness of her. Without thinking, he slid in a second finger and started moving them in and out, while he increased the pressure with his tongue. Suddenly she cried out, every muscle tensed, and he felt her convulse around his fingers as she quivered and shook, back arched, head thrown back, and he realized suddenly that this was what he had been waiting for. She was having an orgasm, and he had made it happen with just his hands and his tongue. Dear Lord. He felt quite proud.

A moment later, her muscles relaxed, and he carefully withdrew his fingers and moved up to lie beside her, softly stroking her until she seemed to regain a sense of where she was. 'Good God, Jack,' she breathed, looking up at him, pleased. 'You're a fast learner.' He grinned in satisfaction and leaned in to kiss her, delighted that she did not mind her own taste on his lips. By the time he broke away, she seemed to be in control of the situation again, and smiled up at him saucily as her fingers deftly undid his trouser buttons and she started stroking him. He moaned suddenly as he realized how much his own excitement had been building. She helped him out of his pants, pushed herself closer to him and whispered in his ear: 'And now I really can't wait any longer. I want to feel you inside me. Now.' He was confused for a moment. 'Are you ready to go again… so soon?' he asked her, and got a tinkling laugh in response. 'A woman's body works differently from a man's, darling', she answered. Well, he sure as hell found that out tonight, Jack thought, but he was glad there wasn't any need for him to hold back. He was suddenly overcome by his desire for her, and by the thought that, really, anything was possible now, feeling that they were finally on equal footing. He felt his natural confidence return, and she saw his eyes darken as he brusquely took charge and flipped her over so she was lying on her stomach. Leaning over, he growled huskily into her ear: 'Get on your knees.'

She did so without any objections, quite liking his new attitude, and felt a stab of desire as he roughly grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer. A moment later, they both cried out in pleasure as he sank into her, deeply, and she arched her back and tilted her hips in a way that she knew would increase both their pleasure. He moaned her name and plunged in again and again, his hands on her hips pulling her deeper at every thrust. Though he could hardly think straight, he suddenly realized the advantages of the situation, and slid one hand around her in search of the place she had shown him earlier. He quickly located it and started stroking it in the rhythm of their movements. That was all she needed, and for the second time he heard her cry out, and felt her begin to shake. When she started to convulse around him, the sensation was exquisite, and he could not hold back any longer. With utter abandonment, he thrust in to her once more, and glorious release swept through him as he spent inside her.

Both utterly spent, they fell sideways onto the bed, holding each other close. Slowly their breathing became more regular, and they half dozed off, basking in the afterglow, both utterly content. After a while he roused himself enough to mutter into her ear: 'I'm torn. I would quite like a bath now, but I also want to stay close to you.' She turned to face him, and he saw a twinkle in her eye as she innocently suggested, just like he had expected she would: 'Why Jack, there's no reason the two can't be combined.' A satisfied smile played around the corners of his mouth as he followed her into the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: A longer chapter, and a little different, as their relationship evolves. I hope you still like it, and that I've managed to stay true to the characters. _

**_Reviews _**_would be **ever** so much appreciated!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

After spending slightly more time in the bathtub than was strictly necessary to get clean, they were both just getting dressed when there was a soft knock on the door.

'Miss,' they heard Dot's voice say from the hallway, 'There was a call from the police station. Hugh says he's tried to contact the Inspector, but he can't reach him and he wondered if… if he might be here, by any chance?'

Phryne quickly looked over at Jack, who nodded. They were going to find out anyway.

'Why yes, Dot,' she replied in a cheerful voice, 'as it happens, the Inspector _is_ here.'

'Oh, good,' Dot said. 'Um… good morning, Inspector. Hugh asked if you could call him back, if you had a moment.'

'Of course, Miss Williams, thank you', he mumbled. He quickly put on his last items of clothing and went downstairs. When Phryne followed him a couple of minutes later, he was deep in conversation with Constable Collins. 'Yes,' she heard him say. 'Yes, I'll be right there.' He rang off and sighed regretfully. 'No breakfast for me, I'm afraid. They've found another Woolpacker's body near the warehouses, stabbed in the stomach. I'll have to go and see if we can find whichever Portsider's responsible.'

'Do you want me to come with you?' she asked, but he shook his head. 'This is a gang war,' he answered. 'We already know who's behind this, it's just a question of rounding them up. Not very interesting I'm afraid.' She had to agree with him there. 'Then I'll stay here.' She stepped closer to him. 'Are you coming back tonight?' He smiled as he put his arms around her waist. 'Wild horses couldn't keep me away, Miss Fisher.' With a quick look around to see that they were alone, he stole a kiss and regretfully walked out the door. She smiled and turned to follow the smell of toast and coffee.

When Jack returned that night, it was later than he had expected. As he didn't want to wake the household, he didn't ring the bell, but knocked softly. Almost immediately the door opened to the sight of Phryne, looking lovelier than ever, it seemed to him, already in one of her silk robes. He was suddenly overcome by such a strong feeling of love, it quite took his breath away. He felt an unbearable longing to hold her close, feel her body next to his, and never let her go. When he rushed in to take her into his arms, he saw his own feelings reflected in her eyes, and in the way she threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely.

'You've been gone a long time,' she whispered breathlessly when they parted.

'Not by choice, believe me,' he mumbled, and leaned in for another kiss. She ran her hands through his hair and down his body, until a slight tinkling sound from one of his coat pockets drew her attention. She put her hand into the pocket in question and looked up with a delightedly wicked smile as she drew out a pair of handcuffs. He must have forgotten to leave them at the station; after all, he had left in a great hurry to get to Phryne as quickly as possible. She, however, seemed to think his motives were less than innocent. She dangled the cuffs from one finger and looked at him saucily from beneath her eyelashes.

'Are you here to arrest me, Inspector?'

He didn't really see where she was going with this, but he was happy to play the game.

'Arrest you on what grounds, Miss Fisher?'

She grinned playfully as she moved closer, and suddenly cupped him through the fabric of his trousers, making him gasp.

'To start with, various indecency charges, I imagine. I also have several pieces of literature around the house that I'm sure would get me into trouble.'

'Well,' he said, removing his hat and coat and following her into the parlor. 'That certainly seems worthy of further investigation, but at the moment I don't see any reason to arrest you… yet.'

'Jack!' she exclaimed, in mock disappointment. 'And here I thought you were finally going to cuff me!'

He was getting little confused now, but tried not to show it. 'Cuff you, Miss Fisher?' he said in a neutral voice.

'Why, yes. For the sake of comfort and privacy, I suggest the head of the bed, but if you have any other ideas in mind, I'd be happy to hear them.'

Suddenly he understood what she meant, and his eyes flew open in shock. He had to sit down for a moment. Carefully, he lowered himself into the love seat, and looked up at her uncertainly. Maybe she was too much for him after all. Sure, he had heard her joke about his handcuffs before, but he had always thought she had spoken in jest. Never for a moment had he imagined what she was now hinting at. He looked at the cuffs still dangling from her finger. The metal edges gleamed cold and hard. They were sharp. He frowned.

Realizing that Jack had apparently not been playing the same game she had, and seemed quite shaken, Phryne immediately became more serious. She gently sat down next to him and said with a soft smile 'It's alright, Jack.' He looked up at her, a crease between his eyebrows. 'Why… why would I want to do that?' Her smile became more sensual as she leaned closer and said in a low, seductive voice. 'Why, for the thrill of it. For the exhilarating sensation of being in control, and having your way with me.' Her hand crept up his thigh as she spoke, and his mouth went dry. He swallowed hard as tempting images suddenly flashed across his mind's eye. He pushed them away. 'But what about you?' he asked, an honest question in his eyes. 'These cuffs are sharp, and your wrists…' He picked up a white hand and kissed the incredibly delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. 'You would hurt yourself.' She replied without hesitation, 'Not if I'm careful.' He still wasn't convinced. 'Phryne… you would be completely defenseless…'. At that she looked up into his eyes with such a trusting, open look that he felt his resistance melt. 'Jack…' she said softly. 'What would I need to defend myself from if I'm with you?'

He hesitated in indecision for a moment, again torn between his baser instincts and his more gentlemanly impulses. Finally he shook his head. 'I spend my life trying to protect people. It just wouldn't feel right.' She immediately sat up and cheerfully dropped the handcuffs to the floor. 'Well, then, there's no reason we can't have fun without them, is there?' she grinned, and the next thing he knew, she had placed herself on his lap, and his arms were full of Phryne. Suddenly, nothing in the world mattered anymore but her, the touch of her lips, her hands in his hair, the feel of silk under his fingers as he ran his hands down her back and hungrily up her thigh.

As he started kissing her neck, his hands went automatically to the knot tying her robe closed, but she stopped his hand. He saw that she was breathing fast, and her chest was flushed. 'Maybe it's time we moved to a more private location, Inspector?' she suggested, and, taking his hand, she led the way to her bedroom. They tumbled onto the bed, laughing as they undid various knots and buttons. Soon their clothes were piled next to the bed. At the sight of her naked body, he again felt a great rush of tenderness for this white and delicate creature lying next to him. He was overcome by a great desire to just explore her body, caress her, to cover every inch of that pale, smooth skin in kisses. But her hands were already moving below his waist in an excellent attempt to distract him. This time, he wouldn't let her. 'Not so impatient, Miss Fisher,' he rumbled, as he pushed her hand away. 'I want to take my time tonight, to look at you, touch you, kiss you. I hardly got a chance last night.'

'Jack!' she complained. 'How can you _bear _to wait even a moment longer?'

He grinned down at her. 'I simply have more self-restraint than… some other people I might mention.' He saw immediately that she had accepted his words as a challenge, though she pretended to surrender. She stretched luxuriously on the bed, inviting his hands to explore, but he saw the wicked gleam in her eyes. The truth was, Jack thought, as he moved closer and started caressing her shoulder, her stomach, the curve of her breasts, that he enjoyed waiting, he enjoyed drawing it out, making it last. He supposed he did have more self-restraint than most people.

But at that moment his self-restraint was sorely tested as her hand slowly snuck up the inside of his thigh. 'Hands off, Miss Fisher', he warned her, as he felt his resistance crumble. But she didn't listen to him (when had she ever?) and softly started stroking him. For a moment every thought was wiped from his mind, then he regained control of himself, took her by the wrist and pinned her down. He noticed she was grinning delightedly, enjoying her game. 'Stop that,' he said in mock annoyance, but the moment he released her, her hands were on him again. This time, he took both her wrists and pinned them to the mattress above her head. Why did she always have to be so impossible? 'I said, stop that.' He tried being firm with her, but failed as he saw the laughter in her eyes and realized he was being played.

'Well, Inspector,' she purred contentedly, nipping at his neck. 'It seems that we have reached an impasse. You know perfectly well that I will not keep my hands to myself. You could, of course, hold me down, but then your hands won't be free for whatever you had in mind…'He looked down at her for a moment, his face unreadable as he made a decision. 'Well played,' he grumbled finally, trying but failing to keep the amusement out of his voice. 'Fine. But no handcuffs. A compromise.' At that, he released her and retrieved his tie from the floor. She smiled a beautiful, delighted smile as she obligingly moved up to the top of the bed, stretching out with her hands close to the ironwork of the headboard, wrists crossed. 'I knew you were the adventurous kind, Jack,' she quipped, and he couldn't suppress a smile as he bent over her and carefully tied her wrists together and to the headboard, making very sure she was still comfortable and not tied too tight.

As he sat back to look at her, he had to admit the sight was utterly arousing. There she lay, so beautiful, and all his. He softly caressed her side, enjoying the fact that, for once, he was completely in control, and that she was, for once, unable to tease him, to rush him. A satisfied smile crept around his lips as he decided that this would be slow… very slow.

He started by kissing her neck – long, deep kisses that left her breathless. His hands stole down to a breast and he cupped it softly, feeling the nipple harden immediately against his palm. He took it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed softly, making her utter a soft moan. He released her and repeated the action on her other nipple. She closed her eyes and sighed. Ever so slowly, he kissed his way down her neck, over her collarbone, trailing between her breasts. By then she was squirming slightly, longing to feel his warm mouth on her nipples, but he held off, teasing her by drawing slow circles around them, admiring the softness of her breast, and noticing that her nipples were the same soft pink her lips were when she wasn't wearing any lipstick. When she started whimpering slightly, he decided it was enough, and suddenly closed his mouth over one nipple, sucking strongly, while pinching the other one between his fingers. She moaned and arched her back, straining against the tie that prevented her from tangling her hands into her hair and pulling him even closer. As he carefully took a nipple between his teeth, she cried out softly and threw her head back.

He decided it was time to move on. She made a small noise of complaint as he suddenly moved away from her, to the very end of the bed. He gently took one feet in his hands and stroked it, taking care to avoid the most sensitive parts so she wouldn't get ticklish. Slowly, torturously slowly, he started making his way up her leg, stroking, kissing, licking, nipping softly at the soft inside of her thigh. She opened her legs to him, and he kept on kissing until he could smell her sweetness. She held her breath in anticipation, but he suddenly (cruelly, in her opinion), drew back and started kissing the other foot and leg. 'Jack!' she cried out indignantly. 'That's no way to treat a lady!' He looked up at her with a satisfied grin. 'This was your idea,' he said. 'Now you'll have to play by my rules.'

And she had to endure once again the exquisite torture of him moving slowly up her leg, coming ever closer, until she positively squirmed in frustration, unable to speed things up. 'Jack,' she said pleadingly, helpless. 'Ask nicely,' he teased her, and she threw her head back and laughed. 'You beast! All right then… please, Jack, _please_, I can't bear it anymore…' She gasped as his warm mouth suddenly closed over her and he started licking her, probing, exploring, until he found the little node he had discovered so recently and started manipulating it with his tongue. Soon she was gone from the world, moaning and moving her hips rhythmically until… he suddenly stopped, and she cried out in disappointment. 'Jack! Get back there immediately and finish what you started!'

He grinned and moved up to look teasingly into her eyes. 'No, I think I'll just start over again, and there's nothing you can do about…' He was taken completely by surprise as suddenly her hands were loose, and she pushed him forcefully onto his back. The satin sheets were slippery, and he slid off them to land, not very hard, on the sheepskin rug next to the bed. A moment later, her head appeared over the side of the bed to grin down on him. 'You know Jack, for a man who ties his own tie every day, your knot work is surprisingly sloppy.' He looked up at her in amazement for a moment, then burst out laughing. He should never have underestimated her, he should have known, he should have realized that his wonderful lady detective would always have a couple of tricks up her sleeve. The next moment, she was on top of him, sitting astride his stomach, holding down his hands. 'There!' she cried triumphantly, 'There's no escape, Inspector. You're mine now.'

He noticed that she was holding him in an expert grip; apparently she really did have some experience in judo. However, Jack was a former army man and a police officer. He was also a strong man, and he easily overpowered her, flipping her lightly onto her back and pinning her down with the weight of his body. She pretended to struggle, but when he caught both her wrists in one hand and held them over her head again, she relaxed with smile. 'You got me, Inspector. But wouldn't you prefer to move onto the bed again?', she suggested innocently. He realized perfectly well that this was a ploy to get out of her current position, so he looked at her ironically, cocking an eyebrow. 'You can't be trusted on the bed', he stated. She giggled at that. 'And you think I'll behave better on the floor?' He tightened his grip on her wrists. 'At least now there are no knots you can undo', he growled into her ear. He wriggled his hips, and she opened her legs to him so he could lie between her thighs. With his free hand, he moved slowly down her body to stroke her once more between her legs, and she was very quickly lost in the moment, closing her eyes and moaning softly, trying to move beneath him, but he kept her firmly pinned down. The resistance only seemed to arouse her more, and soon she was crying out for him.

He couldn't resist anymore; still keeping her wrists together above her head with one hand, he used the other to guide himself to her opening, moaning as he felt how wet she was. He thrust inside her, hard, deep, and she arched up her hips to meet him. He let go of all restraint as he took her, again and again, and everything was Phryne, her taste in his mouth, her skin on his skin, her legs around his waist, his fingers tangled into her hair. She had been very close already, and soon he felt her start to tremble, then cry out. As she contracted around him, the increased sensation was too much for him to bear, and he, too, cried out and let go. Sparks erupted behind his eyes as a wave of exquisite fire swept through his body and left him, gasping, lying on top of her. As the sensation receded and he came to his senses again, he noticed that he was no longer holding her wrists, but that, sometime during their lovemaking, he had entwined his fingers with hers. He knew she had noticed too when she squeezed his hand, in a gesture of such love and intimacy, it made him shift position and take her into his arms, holding her close.

She settled her head contentedly on his shoulder and he could almost feel her happiness radiating through his skin. 'You wonderful man, Jack Robinson', she murmured sleepily, before drifting off to lightly doze on his chest, her fingers still entwined with his. While he felt exhausted, Jack couldn't sleep, not yet. He lay awake, listening to her breathing, feeling the tickle of soft black hair on his chest, and marveling, at her, and at how she was able to make him feel. Contrary to what he had expected, he felt that they had just shared a wonderful experience together, as partners, both enjoying it enormously. He had never imagined that sex could be so playful, so joyful, so passionate and thrilling. As he wrapped her even closer into his arms and kissed her head with endless tenderness, he couldn't help but wonder what other surprises this wonderful woman had in store for him…


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note: A bit of story around the smut this time, I just couldn't resist._

_A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! Reviews bring me so much joy and inspire me to write on. _

_Enjoy!_

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'No.'  
'Come on, Jack. Please?'  
He held firm. 'No.'  
'It'll be fun!'  
'I highly doubt that.'  
'Just once. For me?'  
'I wouldn't feel comfortable.'  
'It's really rather enjoyable once you get used to it.'  
'I don't think so.'

She looked at him reproachfully. 'It's just a dinner party at Aunt Prudence's. It's not like I'm asking you to go to the North Pole with me.'  
'I think I'd quite prefer the North Pole.'  
'Honestly Jack, it's not that bad.'  
They were lying in bed together, Phryne's head resting on Jack's chest. She was gently stroking his arm while attempting to persuade him to accompany her to her aunt's party that evening. So far, she had had very little success. He turned sideways to face her.  
'Look, I don't know anyone there, I would feel completely out of place, and it sounds terrifically boring. Give me one good reason why I should go.'  
She sighed theatrically. 'You're absolutely right, Jack. I'll just have to spend the night talking to whichever eligible bachelor Aunt P. decides to seat me next to…'

'Jack?'  
' I'll pick you up at seven.'

Jack had no reason to regret his decision when he came to call on Phryne that evening. He rang the doorbell, formally dressed in a black suit and tie, and was invited into the hall by Mr. Butler. 'Miss Fisher will be with you in a minute, Inspector,' the butler informed him before retreating back to the kitchen. A moment later, Jack turned at the sound of rustling at the top of the stairs, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.  
She was looking absolutely stunning in a resplendent evening gown of green and silver, which sparkled faintly in the light of the hall. The many-layered skirt rustled as she descended the stairs, and emeralds set in silver sparkled at her throat and dangled from her ears. She beamed as she stepped off the stairs in front of him and twirled.  
'Do you like it?' she asked gaily.  
'I… um… it's… you look…'  
She flashed him a saucy smile. 'I know.'  
He could only stare, and vaguely think that he couldn't for the life of him understand why this society belle would want to be seen with him. A moment later, though, she had put her arm through his, and all worries left him as he suddenly felt that the world was exactly right.  
'Ready, Inspector?' she queried, looking up at him.  
He had finally found his voice again. 'Ready as I'll ever be, Miss Fisher.'  
Arm in arm, they swept out the door towards the waiting car.

An hour later, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. After having been greeted by many raised eyebrows, and a very cold look from Aunt Prudence, he had been seated opposite Phryne instead of next to her, which had left him without moral support and with the obligation to converse with the two excessively boring old gentlemen seated next to him. Every once in a while, he shot a desperate look at Phryne across the table. She was not far away, exactly, the table was not very wide, but she was half hidden from view by the many dishes, flowers and candles. Moreover, she seemed to be deep in conversation with the young woman sitting next to her. He was starting to feel a little neglected.

Suddenly, however, he stiffened. Had he imagined it, or had he really felt something brush his leg? He looked across the table, where Phryne still seemed completely absorbed in her conversation. But Jack observed that she seemed to have shifted slightly in her seat, and he thought he detected a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. A moment later, he felt it again, more distinctly this time, and he realized that she must have slipped out of her shoe to tease him with a stockinged foot. Suppressing a smile, he extended his own legs under the table to allow her better access. A shiver ran down his spine as her foot brushed his ankle and then, slowly, sensuously, moved up the inside of his calf. He suddenly had trouble concentrating on the conversation around him as she followed the same path downward and started upward on the other leg.

When her toes had almost reached his knee, he suddenly caught her foot in one hand and held it firmly. Across the table, he saw her eyes widen in surprise, but she otherwise kept her composure. She kept on chatting merrily to her companion, and only Jack was able to detect the small changes in her face and body when he slowly started to stroke her foot. When he reached her sensitive instep, he couldn't resist, and tickled it softly. He was immediately rewarded when he saw her whole body twitch, and she jerked her foot back out of his reach. With a smile, Jack returned to his dinner.

A seemingly interminable half hour later, the table had been cleared, and guests were beginning to leave the table to dance. When the young woman next to Phryne was swept away by a dashing young man, Jack saw his chance. He excused himself to the gentlemen next to him, quickly got up and hurried around the table to drop into the recently vacated chair. He was greeted by a bright smile and a teasing 'Are you here to ask me to dance, Inspector?'  
He looked at her grumpily. He felt he had suffered quite enough already for her this evening, and his look plainly told her so. She replied quite cheerfully: 'Just as well. I can't really maneuver in this dress, anyway.'  
Soon, however, Jack felt his bad temper disappear in Phryne's sparkling presence. They talked and laughed, and Jack noticed that she was constantly smiling and touching him on the arm. It took him a while to realize, but it suddenly dawned on him that she was behaving exactly like a woman in love. The realization came as a complete surprise; he had been so absorbed in his own happiness at being near her, that he hadn't stopped to think for a moment that she might be just as happy to be close to him.

A moment later, his attention shifted sharply as she had casually dropped her hand to his knee. She suddenly seemed to notice the person sitting on his other side, and greeted them with great enthusiasm, using the pretext to lean very close to Jack and slide her hand slightly up his thigh. He suddenly started to feel very hot around the collar, and quickly looked down to check that the table cloth was long enough. It was. Seemingly oblivious, Phryne kept on talking animatedly to the middle-aged woman sitting next to Jack, leaning ever closer to him and sneaking her hand ever higher up his thigh. He tried to look natural, doubting about whether or not to push her hand away, but he thought that would only draw attention.

Suddenly she turned her attention back to him. She brightly said 'I'll be in the powder room for a moment' in a completely innocent voice, but she looked at him meaningfully and her hand squeezed his leg for just a second before she stood up graciously and went up the stairs. He stayed put for a few seconds, taking deep, calming breaths. Did she mean…? He wasn't sure, but decided to risk it. The moment he had regained his composure, he got up and followed her.

When he arrived upstairs, he didn't spot her at once and thought for a moment that she really had gone to the powder room. An instant later though, a bedroom door to his right opened a fraction and she laughingly grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, quickly shutting the door behind them. The moment the door was closed, she wrapped herself around him, kissing him fiercely. 'I couldn't keep my hands off you for a moment longer', she sighed. He snorted. 'As if you were keeping them to yourself before.' She gave him a saucy look. 'Well, a girl must amuse herself _somehow_ on occasions like these.' And she promptly proceeded to undo his tie. He tried to stop her, vaguely alarmed. 'What… really… here?' But she started kissing his neck, and it suddenly became much harder to think clearly. 'Come on, Jack. Everyone's dancing, nobody will notice if we're gone for a moment. And besides,' she added with a twinkle, 'I thought you said you were bored. We can't have that, Inspector.'

Her nearness was becoming too much for him to bear, and he didn't need much more persuading. He tried to lead her to the bed, but she resisted. 'Not in this dress, darling', she laughed. 'It'll crease so badly, it won't be hard for people to deduce what we've been up to!'  
He was confused for a moment. 'Well then… how do you propose we proceed, Miss Fisher?'  
'Why, there's a perfectly good wall over here,' she said, leaning back against it and pulling him close. Immediately, distasteful images flashed across Jack's mind, things he had seen during his work as a policeman, of bedraggled prostitutes being pressed up against the walls of dark alleyways by drunken punters. He had always assumed that the proper place for actually making love was the bed. In the case of Phryne Fisher, he could live with an occasional romp on the floor. But up against the wall… That felt… cheap.

She noticed his hesitation. 'What's the matter?' she asked gently.  
'Well…' he said. 'It's just that… taking you against a wall feels a little… well… it's not very classy.'  
At that, she raised an ironic eyebrow. 'Jack, look at me.'  
He did, and a moment later realized how ridiculous his words were. It was hard to imagine anything more classy than Phryne Fisher, in a beautiful evening gown, covered in jewels, leaning casually against a wall. 'Once again, Inspector, you set too much store by what is proper.' She smiled, and he relented, allowing her to draw him closer by his tie. A moment later, his mouth was on hers, one hand in her hair, one on the small of her back. She started to pull up her skirt, but he stopped her hand. The many layers had been playing with his imagination the entire evening. 'Allow me', he whispered as he kneeled in front of her.

She giggled as he started lifting the layers of her dress, one by one, until he finally caught a glimpse of white ankle. He lifted the last layer of fabric high, and ducked underneath it. She squealed softly in surprise, but didn't move, other than to brace herself more firmly against the wall. He remained quite still for a moment in the absolute darkness, breathing in her smell, feeling her warmth. Then, he started exploring, found a knee, a thigh, moved upwards to let his hands slide over her hips and held them there, steadying her. The next moment, his mouth had found the inside of her thigh, and he moved upwards until his lips encountered the silk edge of her underwear. He did not attempt to remove it, but kept moving upward and inward, until he could press his mouth to her. He heard her gasp, felt her sway slightly, and firmly held her steady with his hands on her hips. He started exploring her through the fabric, carefully sensing and probing to find his bearings. When he suddenly found the right spot, he immediately knew by her reaction, and by the way her knees suddenly went weak.

'Jack,' he heard her say, voice muffled through the many layers of cloth. 'I can't do this standing up like this. I don't have anything to hold on to, I'm afraid I'll just collapse on top of you.'  
'That's okay,' he mumbled, absorbed in what he was doing, 'you're not that heavy.'  
She giggled. 'But the dress, Jack.'  
He sighed, silently cursing the dress. 'Can't we take it off?'  
'Well, it took Dot nearly half an hour to get me into it properly, and I really don't think we have that kind of time.' He heard the smile in her voice, and regretfully got out from under the skirt. The cold air and the bright lights were unpleasant after the warm, sweet-smelling darkness, but she soon made him forget by pulling him upwards and kissing him so passionately he suddenly realized how much he wanted her.

The burning desire he felt for her was never very far from the surface, and now it overtook him with such force, he had to take care not to tear her dress in his sudden longing to feel her skin. She undid the buttons of his trousers, then started to pull up the skirt of her dress, very careful to fold it where the pleats naturally fell, so it wouldn't crease in noticeable places. As he pushed her hard against the wall, she wrapped one bare leg around his hip, and used one hand to guide him in. When he entered her, she cried out softly, and he immediately clapped one hand in front of her mouth.  
He looked straight into her eyes as he slowly started moving inside her, and huskily whispered: 'Quiet, Miss Fisher. We wouldn't want to get caught.' She softly bit his fingers, but he just laughed and did not withdraw his hand.

Her breathing became quicker as she moved her hips against him, pulling him in deeper with her leg hooked around his hip, one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance. He kept his hand firmly on her mouth, smothering her moans as he took her other hand and held it against the wall over her head. He pushed in again and again, and felt the tension build inside him. He fought to control it, the new position was just too arousing, both to his mind and his body. With an effort, he held off stroke after stroke, until he saw her eyes close, and he felt her tense beneath him, then start to tremble. Finally giving in, he allowed his own orgasm to break, biting his lip to keep in all sound as he felt the rush of fire through his body, and spent himself inside her with a last few thrusts. Weak-kneed, he leaned against her, as much to support her as to keep himself from falling. They held each other close, breathing hard, as they slowly recovered. Jack pressed his face to her hair and breathed in deeply. They rested for a moment more, until they were both able to stand again. Then she carefully rearranged her dress as he buttoned up his trousers and straightened his tie. After one last kiss, she slipped out of the room first, and he waited a moment to give her a head start, leaning against the door with a contented sigh.

The rest of the party passed in a happy blur of champagne and Phryne. She was constantly at his side, and he discovered that absolutely everything was delightful as long as her hand was on his arm, and he could see her smile. It seemed like only a moment later they were back in the car, Jack driving as Phryne lazily leaned back in her seat. She had had rather a lot of champagne and seemed utterly relaxed. After a while, she leaned sideways and rested her head upon his shoulder. She put one hand on his knee, and for once, the gesture was completely innocent, an expression of affection and intimacy. As they silently drove along, Jack felt a deep and inexpressible sense of happiness steal over him, and a feeling of belonging that was so strong, he knew it to be true. This was exactly how it should be.

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_Author's note: If you liked the chapter, please review! It means a lot to me to hear your opinion. Eternal gratefulness will be yours :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note: I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it!_

_If you do, please review! :)_

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For the last three hours, he had been trying to get out of the bed. The fact that he hadn't succeeded in doing so, was of course entirely due to Miss Fisher. Every time he had mentioned 'getting up', she had found new ways of keeping him right where he was. A hand here, a kiss placed in exactly the right spot, and before he knew it, thoughts of leaving the bed seemed perfectly absurd when compared to the delights waiting for him between the sheets. Time and again, their bodies entwined on the bed, and afterwards he drifted into that delicious state between sleeping and waking that came with being utterly satisfied. And every time when he had recovered enough to start thinking about getting dressed and going for breakfast, she would just start the whole thing over again.

He was certainly not complaining, but by noon he was determined that this time, he would manage his escape. He would gladly spend the entire day in bed with her (it wouldn't be the first one, either), but he had something very particular in mind that he really wanted to get done today. The problem was, that he didn't want tell Phryne what it was, which made it much harder to give her a reason for wanting to leave. He looked at her, dozing on the pillow next to him. Very quietly, he started to move out from under the sheets.

'Where are you going?' she murmured sleepily.

'It's nearly noon. Don't you think we should get up?'

She nestled herself more snugly between the sheets. 'What ridiculous notions you have sometimes, Inspector.'

He smiled. 'I really need to go home today, Miss Fisher. I must get some clean clothes.'

She opened one eye to look at him naughtily. 'If you just stay in bed, you don't need clothes at all.'

'An excellent point. But I'll need to leave the bed at _some _point, and when that time comes, I need clean clothes.'

She yawned and stretched luxuriously, revealing white skin in places that made him seriously reconsider his decision. However, he had his reasons to go. He needed to be strong now.

'Well, Inspector, your reasoning is perfectly sound, as ever. I will see you tomorrow.'

She smiled as he kissed her hair, and when he got up and started dressing, she settled herself comfortably in the warm nest they had made and seemed ready for a good nap. With a sigh of regret, he closed the bedroom door behind him and descended the stairs.

He accepted a cup of tea from Mr. Butler, and wandered into the sitting room, appearing to look vaguely at the books in the book case while drinking his tea, but in reality he was looking for something very specific. Soon, he found it. It was a big black book, fairly inconspicuous, tucked away into a corner of the book case. He furtively looked around, then quickly slipped it under his coat. He thanked Mr. Butler for the tea, handed him the empty cup, and left the house at a brisk pace.

It took him only a short time to drive home, which was a small bungalow that he had bought after Rosie had left him. He didn't need much space, as he didn't spend much time at home in any case, but the place was nice enough, with a fireplace and a comfortable chair in which he could read Shakespeare. He really didn't need much more than that.

When he entered, he was greeted by his housekeeper, a middle-aged woman who came around in the afternoons to clean, do laundry, and prepare some meals for him. Luckily, she was a sensible woman who wasn't the least bit nosy and didn't care at all about him keeping odd hours. She was competent and efficient, and left him to his business, exactly the way he liked it. 'Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson,' he greeted her. 'I'll be in my study.'

'Good afternoon, Mr. Robinson,' she replied. 'I was just going out to run some errands. Do you require anything specific?'

'Not today, Mrs. Thompson, thank you.' He retreated to his study, seated himself behind his desk, and waited until he heard the front door close. Then, he took out the black book and placed it in front of him on the desk. The title said 'Erotica of the Far East', underneath a highly colored picture of a man and a woman in an very indecent position. Really, he thought, shaking his head, this was highly compromising material. He could only imagine how she had smuggled it into the country.

But now that it _was_ here, the Inspector was fully prepared to take advantage of the fact. He was aware by now that there was much more to the art of the bedroom than he had ever suspected: Phryne had taught him much and he had discovered other things himself, but he felt that by now it was time for a more thorough investigation. For once, he wanted to surprise _her_, and not the other way around. He felt that it was high time he took on a more assertive role in their lovemaking. Even if it meant having to get his information from… questionable sources.

He looked at the book with a slight frown. He was not the kind of person who would naturally seek out this kind of thing. Apprehensively, he lifted the cover and flipped through the pages. There were lots of illustrations, accompanied by highly detailed instructions. He opened the book at a random page, and his frown disappeared as he lifted an eyebrow. That looked… interesting. Though he wasn't sure how practical it would be if they were to actually try it out. It seemed like it would be… difficult to maintain balance.

He turned a page and the frown returned. Now that just looked plain uncomfortable. Another page… they'd done that already. Another page, and he winced. That just _had _to be painful. He didn't think she could bend that far, and he knew _he _definitely couldn't. Another page, another frown. He couldn't even distinguish which limbs belonged to whom and he was not about to try and figure it out. He sighed impatiently, and decided that maybe he should start at the beginning of the book.

He turned to the first few pages, and for the first time, the book got his full attention. Hmm. He had never really thought to try things _that_ way. And _this_ seemed highly enjoyable. He flipped through the next few pages and found several more pictures that appealed to him. He kept on studying the book late into the night, deciding on favorites and reading and rereading instructions to memorize them. Finally, he went to bed with the sense that he had a much better grasp of things now, and the satisfying knowledge that she would not expect what he had planned. He couldn't wait to see her tomorrow and try out a couple of things.

Tomorrow, however, arrived sooner than anticipated in the form of a telephone call from the station. The familiar voice of Constable Collins informed him that there had been a murder, and gave him directions to the crime scene. When the Inspector arrived there half an hour later, it was to see an only too familiar red car parked at the scene. Of course, he thought, he should have known. Still, this was the first case they would work on together after they had started their affair, and he only hoped that Miss Fisher would behave professionally.

He needn't have worried. When he got out of the car, she greeted him with perfect cheerfulness and immediately started filling him in on the case (a young man found dead in an abandoned alley with a single gunshot to the chest), and as always she did not hesitate to give him the benefit of her own opinion. To his surprise, however, Jack quickly discovered that he himself had great difficulties to behave professionally around her now. When she kneeled close to him to examine the body, he caught a whiff of her perfume, and for a couple of moments lost track of what she was saying as his thoughts turned entirely to how much he wanted to kiss the exposed white skin of her throat. With a mental effort, he focused his attention on the body in front of him, but throughout the day he discovered that he had very little control over his thoughts anymore.

He had thought that things would be better now that they were sleeping together, that some of the tension between them would have diffused, and that he would be less distracted if she hopped up onto his desk, or stood entirely too close to him for comfort, but the opposite was true. While they went about their day as usual, visiting relevant locations, interrogating suspects, talking over clues, he realized that, especially after his reading of last night, the only thing he could think about was how much he wanted to pull her close and ravish her in every possible way. The fact that she was so close and he couldn't touch her was pure torture.

So when they finally left the station very late and went home, his patience was worn very thin. Phryne opened the front door quietly, as the household was already sleeping, and started to hang up her hat and coat. 'Would you like a nightcap and talk things over, or do you want to go straight to…' she started asking, but he didn't let her finish. She squealed softly in surprise as he suddenly lifted her and threw her over his shoulder, heading for the stairs. 'Well! Straight to bed it is then!' she laughed. 'You know, you had only to _ask_, Inspector.' But he didn't reply, just smiled in silent satisfaction as he carried her up the stairs.

Even in his newfound assertiveness, he couldn't really bring himself to throw her down on the bed, so he put her down gently and straightened to take off his jacket. When he saw that she was starting to unbutton her blouse, he leaned close, stopped her hand and looked into her eyes. 'Don't. I want to undress you.' She looked at him curiously, but dropped her hands and leaned back invitingly. 'Well, be my guest, Inspector. As long as you don't take too long about it.' He noticed that she was watching him with a hungry look, and smiled inwardly. He sat down next to her on the bed, and carefully unbuttoned her blouse, relieved that he was finally allowed to touch her, after wanting to all day. He couldn't resist to kiss a white shoulder, and brush a nipple through her camisole to hear her gasp.

He pushed her down onto the bed so he could remove her trousers and her stockings, but he really couldn't hope for her to stay this compliant the entire time. She sat up and took him by his tie. 'And now I get to undress _you_, I hope. It's only fair.' He relented. 'Whatever you like, Miss Fisher.' She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. 'I like a great many things, Inspector.' He smiled as she undid his tie and allowed her to undress him, before taking the lead again. He pushed her back into the pillows to kiss her, a long, slow kiss that was full of promises. A moment later, he had maneuvered her out of her underwear, and she was lying before him naked. He couldn't resist running his hands over her body for a moment and feel her shiver, before turning his attention to what he had planned.

'Lift your hips', he ordered her in a soft whisper. She looked at him questioningly, but obeyed without a word. He pulled down a pillow and placed it under her lower back, so that her hips were tilted. She raised an eyebrow, seeming pleasantly surprised. He felt quietly elated as he kneeled between her legs and ran his tongue up the inside of her thigh. She fell back into the pillows with a sigh and surrendered to him. When he pressed his mouth to her, she moaned, and he noticed that she was already wet. He slid his tongue inside for a moment to taste her, then moved upwards to work on the little hidden node that seemed to give her so much pleasure, until her breathing became quicker. Now was the moment. Trying to remember the exact instructions of the book, he slid two fingers inside her, palm up, and felt around for a moment, searching, until he found a soft spot, just like the book described. Faintly apprehensive about the results, he pushed upwards.

She immediately gasped loudly and tangled one hand into his hair, the other in the sheets. 'God, Jack', she gasped, and he smiled in satisfaction and started to rhythmically push upwards, in the meantime not removing his tongue from where it had been before. She arched her back and moaned; he felt her muscles tense, and as he increased the rhythm, her breathing became very fast and erratic, she tilted her hips even further to increase the pressure of his fingers, and threw her head back. He pushed harder, and suddenly she was crying out, her hand tightened on the sheets, and her whole body bent double as she half rose out of the pillows, every muscle tensed. The orgasm lasted for several long moments, then she fell back into the pillows, breathing heavily. He instinctively started to slow down, then remembered the book and pushed up hard again. 'Oh, Jack!' she cried out, surprised at how readily her body reacted to his touch, and she reached up to hold on to the headboard as he again started exploring her with his tongue, gentler now. Soon she was trembling again as he kept up a steady pressure both with his fingers and his tongue. Only a few moments later, she gasped, almost sobbing, as a second orgasm overtook her and she convulsed beneath him, contracting around his fingers. Finally, he slowed down and she gradually relaxed onto the bed, quivering slightly. He withdrew his fingers and looked up. She seemed out of breath and more than a little dazed, and he moved up to take her into his arms, feeling extremely pleased with himself.

As her breathing quieted, he saw that she was slowly returning to her senses and watched her closely to gauge when she would be ready for his next move. When she looked up at him and asked 'Jack, where on earth did you…' he judged that she was quite recovered enough, and closed her mouth with a kiss. 'No time for questions', he breathed. 'I'm not nearly done with you.' She smiled a delighted smile at that and bit her lip in anticipation as he rolled on top of her, feeling his own excitement rise sharply. She let out a surprised 'oh!' as he moved down and suddenly lifted her right leg so her ankle rested against his shoulder. Lucky she's so flexible, he thought, as he moved upward and encountered very little resistance. He preferred to think that was from judo practice. Or dancing.

She was so wet that he slid inside her effortlessly, and he couldn't quite suppress a moan that was echoed by her as he pushed in deep. She was tight this way, and he enjoyed the added friction as he thrust in again and again. It didn't take long until he felt he wouldn't be able to resist much longer. At that point, he stopped, ignoring her sounds of disappointment, and took a few deep breaths as he lay down beside her, their bodies touching full length. 'Jack, what are you…?' she started to ask, but he didn't let her finish. 'Roll onto your side', he ordered her softly, and she turned to face him. He smiled amusedly. 'The _other_ side, please.' She flashed him another look of surprise that turned into a look of sensual pleasure as she turned and nestled her back into his warmth. He folded her closely into his arms and put one leg between hers for easier access, then entered her with a soft moan. She pressed her buttocks backwards into him and sighed in delight as he started moving with slow and deliberate strokes, enjoying the closeness of their bodies. With one hand, he started moving over her body, caressing a breast, pinching a nipple, stroking the inside of her thigh, before settling between her legs. Very gently, he started stroking as he moved inside her, and she pressed herself even closer to him. He softly whispered into her ear, how lovely she was, how beautiful, how much he adored her, until he felt the tension within him rise to a point that made it impossible to speak. When she began to quiver, he buried his face into her hair and held her tight as he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him, and they cried out together. He felt her clench around him, pushing him to an even higher pitch as he thrust in again, until he spent inside her. They both shivered and lay still, wrapped in each other's warmth.

They didn't move for what seemed like a long time, and maybe they slept a little. When Jack returned to his senses, it was to find Phryne facing him with a smile. She kissed him softly, then drew back with a shrewd look in her eye. Uh oh.  
'All right, Jack. Out with it. What have you been reading?'  
He tried to feign ignorance. 'Reading, Miss Fisher? What on earth do you mean?'  
He nuzzled her neck, but she was not so easily distracted, and pushed him away with an amused smile. 'Well, it's either that or you had a very steamy affair last night that taught you a trick or two', she joked.  
He suppressed a laugh and tried to look wounded. 'Perhaps I'm just naturally talented, Miss Fisher.'  
She raised an eyebrow. 'I'm not saying you're _not_, but you don't just figure these things out overnight.' She gave him a calculating look. 'Erotica of the Far East?' she guessed, and he suddenly blushed fiercely, proving her right. She gave a delighted laugh, and cuddled close to him.  
'Well, Inspector, I must say I approve of a man trying to improve himself through study.'  
He kissed her hair. 'I thought you might, Miss Fisher.'  
'And you certainly managed to surprise me tonight.'  
He smiled a satisfied smile and held her close, seriously considering never letting her go again.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a long day. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson sighed in relief as he pulled up his car in front of the house of Phryne Fisher. He didn't get out immediately, but leaned back for a moment and rubbed his eyes. A long, hard day, with lots of paperwork, a drunk and disorderly, and a frustrating dead end in the case he'd been working on. In fact, he'd been working hard for the past few days, and he was tired. He was looking forward to seeing Phryne, as they had spent the last couple of days apart, but he hoped she wouldn't be too… exuberant. He didn't think he was up to that right now. Nevertheless, the thought of taking her into his arms was irresistible.

He got out of the car and walked through the darkness to the front door. When he knocked softly, the door was opened by Phryne, looking beautiful as ever in her black embroidered silk robe. 'Jack,' she said softly, as she reached for him with a sweet, longing smile. They embraced tenderly, and Jack appreciated the fact that Phryne seemed to realize how tired he was and didn't seem to have any immediate plans of ravishing him right there on the hallway floor. He kissed her softly and held her close, whispering in her ear: 'I've missed you.' She put her arms around him and smiled up at him. 'I've missed you too. You've been working too hard.' He could only agree with that. 'Poor Jack,' she said. 'But I've got something that might make you feel better.'

'Whiskey?' he suggested hopefully, and she grinned in delight. 'You read my mind, Inspector.'  
They went into the sitting room together, and he saw that she had already poured him a glass. He sighed gratefully as he dropped into the love seat and she handed him the whiskey, then nestled herself close to him. 'Now,' she said. 'Tell me all about this case that's been giving you such a headache.' He started talking, gradually feeling like a load was lifted from his shoulders as he told her all about the worries of the past few days. She listened quietly until he was finished, then offered a few suggestions that threw the case in a completely new perspective. That, combined with the effect of the excellent whiskey, suddenly made him feel much lighter and happier. She felt him relax next to her, stood up with a smile, and held out her hand to him. 'Now that you're feeling better, I have a surprise for you.'

He was immediately wary. You never knew _what _she might have planned. But the whiskey helped in overcoming his apprehensions, and he suddenly realized that he didn't care; as long as he could stay close to her, everything was fine with him. He took her hand and let her lead him up the stairs to the bedroom. He allowed himself one last thought to hope that it wouldn't be anything _too _exotic, before she opened the bedroom door. The room was softly lit with dozens of candles. The bed was full of soft cushions and fresh satin sheets, and two glasses of champagne stood on the bedside table. Soft jazz was playing on the gramophone. Jack relaxed with a smile. 'You've been working so hard, I felt you deserved a treat.' She said with a twinkle in her eyes as she handed him a glass of champagne. It was excellent, probably French, he thought.

Without a word, she started to undress him; not in her usual, eager way, but unhurriedly, kissing every part of him that she uncovered. 'Go lie down on the bed,' she whispered when she had finished. He did as he was told, enjoying the unhurried pace and the way his thoughts had clouded pleasantly due to the champagne and Phryne's closeness. She kneeled next to him on the bed. 'No, turn around, you should be face down.' He frowned for a moment, not seeing what could possibly be accomplished if he was lying on his stomach. But he decided to trust her, and rolled over. He heard her take something from the bedside table, and then felt her straddle his back. A moment later, she poured out a couple of drops of warm oil, and started massaging his shoulders.

His first reaction was surprise. He hadn't really expected this from Phryne, hadn't expected her to be so… caring. And willing to wait, and put his own needs before hers. Secondly, he was not the kind of person who was given to relaxing completely. He liked to be in control of the situation, and he was usually worried or tense about something, so surrendering and letting go of all worries was not something he was used to. But as Phryne's soft hands moved expertly over his taut muscles, he gradually felt the tension drain from him, and he let out a sigh of pleasure as he closed his eyes and surrendered to her. The oil had a warming effect on his skin, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of her hands on his body. He didn't think he had ever been touched like this, her soft fingers lovingly caressing every inch of his skin until he felt warm and happy. She moved down to ease the tension out of the muscles of his back. He was starting to feel a little sleepy as she slowly moved further down.

Phryne felt her Inspector gradually relax. She had, of course, experience in the matter and knew exactly what she was doing, expertly loosening the knots where the muscles had tensed. Poor Jack, she mused, he really worries too much. He should take more time to relax. But as she looked at his muscled back and shoulders, she felt her body react to his presence, and her thoughts turned to different matters. After all, she hadn't seen him in days. She felt that she had shown great self-restraint for the last half hour… there was only so much a girl could resist. And she leaned over and bit his buttock.

'Hey!' he exclaimed indignantly, suddenly wide awake again as he pushed himself up on an elbow to give her a berating look. 'You don't even _try_ to control yourself, do you?'  
She gave him a teasing look, without a trace of contrition. 'Why ever would I want to do that, if the alternative is _so _much more pleasant?' She made as if to bite him again, but he caught her and they tumbled laughingly on the bed until he was on top of her.  
'There,' he said. 'No more biting!' At that moment, he noticed that she was still wearing her robe. 'Why Miss Fisher, I can't believe you're still dressed! How ever did you manage that?' he teased. She gave him a naughty look. 'I'm not quite as dressed as you might think, Inspector.'  
Curious, he undid the knot of her robe and let it fall open. She wasn't wearing her usual underwear underneath… in fact, she wasn't wearing anything. He swallowed. If he'd known _that_… all the time they were talking in the sitting room, and she was right there beside him, wearing _nothing _underneath that thin robe… They probably would have ended up in the bed much sooner.

With such easy access… He surprised her by immediately taking a nipple in his mouth, and she gasped when he took it between his teeth.  
'Jack! I thought you said no biting!'  
'No biting for _you_, that is,' he replied, softly nipping at her neck. 'Are you complaining, Miss Fisher?' he teased, drawing back.  
'Only that you're a dreadful hypocrite,' she said in mock indignation, but meanwhile she was drawing down his head to her other nipple so he would continue. He bit it softly, then sucked until she uttered a soft moan. When he released her, he spotted the glasses of champagne on the bedside table, and he had a sudden stroke of inspiration. Taking a glass, he filled his mouth with the bubbly wine, then bent down and closed his lips around her nipple again. The prickling sensation immediately had her gasping, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. He swallowed and took another sip to repeat the action on her other nipple, enjoying the way she was squirming underneath him. He knew what she wanted, but he wasn't ready to stop playing yet. Eventually, he stopped to look around, and spotted the bottle of oil on the bedside table. 'My turn,' he said, as he dripped some oil onto his hand. He had never done anything like this before (in fact, it reminded him rather a lot of Turkish bath houses and other such places of dubious reputation), but the thought of running his hands all over her body was irresistible.

As his strong hands moved over her body with gentle care, rubbing the warm oil all over her skin, Phryne felt like this must surely be the height of sensual pleasure. She settled down comfortably in the pillows and let him caress every inch of her, softly stroking, exerting pressure at certain points, incredibly delicate at others. Her body reacted to his touch, but for once, she stayed still and allowed him to continue, until her entire body was warm and pliable and shining with oil. She was in a mental state beyond mere arousal; she felt purely sensual and deeply connected to the man sitting next to her. Suddenly, she felt a deep desire to express that sense of connection. She rose languorously from the pillows and kissed him deeply. When she drew back, she saw that his eyes were dark with desire, but she felt that his mood was the same as hers: one of unhurried sensuality rather than urgent need.

'Will you take directions from me for a moment?' she whispered to him, and he nodded seriously, without saying a word, without a joke or teasing comment that would shatter the tender mood. 'Put some pillows up against the headboard, and lean back against them,' she instructed, and he obeyed without a word. 'Now cross your legs, like you're meditating.' He looked at her questioningly, and she showed him how. When he was in the right position, she carefully lowered herself onto his lap, wrapping her legs around him so they were face to face, their upper bodies touching. He noticed that her skin was smooth and slick from the oil. He helped her lift her hips, so she could slowly lower herself onto him, and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on hers as he entered her. Completely wrapped around each other, his face only inches from hers, he looked straight into her eyes as he started moving inside her, ever so slowly, supporting her hips to lift her slightly for each stroke. They were so close, soon their breathing became synchronized, and Jack could almost swear that he could feel her heart beat, and that it beat in time with his.

They both sank into a state of sensual pleasure that was beyond time, and they were aware of nothing but each other's closeness. After a while, both had the feeling that they could no longer really tell where their own body ended and the other's began. When she leaned her head back in ecstasy, he kissed the soft skin of her exposed throat. She wrapped her legs even closer around him, and sank deeper, making him moan softly. She looked at him tenderly and pressed her lips to his, and for several long moments they sank into a deep, lingering kiss, exploring each other with their tongues. She ran her hand down his back, sending a shiver down his spine. When she bit his lip and moaned, he realized how close she must be, and he slightly picked up the pace, feeling his own tension begin to build. She tilted her hips a little and arched her back, which pressed her upper body even closer to his, and he felt more connected to her than ever. He closed his eyes, but was intensely aware of her, of every movement and every tremor, and the moment she was ready, he knew. They both gasped at the same time as a delicious sensation spread from where they were joined to fill their entire bodies while they gripped each other closely. The orgasm was not the short burst of electricity that he was used to, rather it was a warmth, a tingling, inextricably mixed with a deep feeling of love and connection, and it went on for a blissful eternity.

Finally they both stopped moving at the same time. For a while, they sat entirely still, completely wrapped up in each other and the experience they had shared. Then, slowly, he sank back into the pillows, and she unwrapped her legs to lie in his arms and rest her head on his chest. They didn't speak. There was no need. Slowly, they drifted off into sleep.

* * *

_Author's note: If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! I'm also open to suggestions or requests for future chapters, as I'm starting to run out of ideas :) (Don't worry though, there will be more chapters soon!)_


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: _at the request of a guest reviewer, a chapter with some angst, so it's a little different from the rest. I hope you like it!

Please review if you have the time! It means a lot to me. I am also open to other requests :)

Enjoy!

* * *

He stormed through the door, as she had known he would. She stayed calmly in her chair as he slammed the door of his office shut and strode through the room to glower at her from the other side of the desk. He did not sit down, but placed his hands on the desk and looked at her with such fury, she couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. However, she was Phryne Fisher, and not easily fazed. She looked back at him innocently.

'You are completely _impossible_', he nearly shouted, his voice hoarse with emotion.  
'And a very good morning to you, Jack', she replied with a raised eyebrow.  
'Don't play games with me, Miss Fisher. I heard what you did last night. You know perfectly well that you were _completely_ out of line!'  
'I know no such thing. I was simply doing my job.'  
'It is _not_…' his voice cracked, '… I repeat, _not_, your job to follow armed suspects into dark alleyways! Alone! That is something you leave to the police!'  
'Oh please, it would have taken you ages to get there. I could hardly have let him escape.'  
'Miss Fisher, we're talking about a man we suspect of having murdered three women!'  
'All the more reason not to let him get away. He might have killed again.'  
'Yes, Miss Fisher, and that is exactly my point! He might very well have killed again last night, with you going after him without so much as a thought for your own safety! You _knew _ he was armed!'  
'So was I.'

She looked at him completely unimpressed, eyebrows raised. 'You know, Jack, I feel you're being _quite_ ungrateful, really. After all, it was only thanks to me that the fellow was apprehended at all, and that he is at present in one of your cells. He was heading straight to the docks when I followed him, and would have been far out at sea right now if it wasn't for me.'  
But Jack was not at all ready to relent. 'You knew he was dangerous, yet you went after him on your own!'  
'I was careful.'  
He let out a bark of joyless laughter. 'You call that being careful? You were reckless, Miss Fisher!'  
'Well, I'm still here, aren't I? Nothing happened.'  
He looked down at the desk and spoke through gritted teeth. 'Through – _sheer – luck.'_  
She bristled a bit at that. 'Now I resent that, Jack. I don't think I'm a vain kind of person, but I do pride myself on having _some _skills. In fact, it was me, and not one of your people, who managed to track the man down in the first place. In the second place, I'm an excellent shot. Honestly, I don't see why you are getting so upset. I've been in plenty of tight spots before, have always managed to get myself out of them, and in none of these occasions have you ever felt the need to berate me as if I were a naughty child.'  
'Well, you have certainly behaved as irresponsibly as a child.'  
'But I always behave irresponsibly by your standards, and that has never really bothered you before.' She was looking at him closely. 'So what's really going on?'

At those words, he couldn't really keep it up anymore. He dropped into his chair, one hand covering his eyes. Suddenly it all crashed down on him, the fear he had felt when he had heard that both the suspect and Miss Fisher had disappeared, his panic at being unable to find them, the relief when he heard the suspect was in custody again, soon to be replaced by unreasonable anger when he heard about the risks she had taken, and when he saw her sitting in his office, as if nothing had happened, looking not a bit sorry for what she had put him through. He noticed his hands were shaking, and took a deep, calming breath.  
'Look. It's just that… I thought something might have happened to you… I was scared.'  
'But you know I can take care of myself. I've been in situations like these hundreds of times and…'  
He felt his anger flare again. This was _exactly _the kind of attitude he was talking about: she acted like it was nothing. 'And one of these times it's going to end badly!'  
'Jack!'  
'You don't _think_ before you act, you rush into things without so much as a second thought!'  
'I don't…'  
'You are _irresponsible_…'  
'Oh please…'  
'Completely _reckless_…'  
'I never…'  
'And you are dangerously over-confident in your own abilities. You seem to think that you are invulnerable, but you are not!'  
She leaned forward now, her eyes narrowed dangerously. 'Now look, Inspector, it's been a long night for me, and I will not sit here and get shouted at, even by you. I did nothing wrong, and if you're waiting for me to apologize, I'm afraid you will have to wait for a very long time.'  
She started to get up, ready to leave. He felt a kind of desparation well up inside him. Why didn't she understand? Why didn't she see how unbearable it would be for him if something happened to her, now more than ever. He had loved her before, but abstractly, hopelessly, from a distance. But now… now he knew what it was like to be with her, to have his life transformed by her glorious presence, to hold her close and to laugh with her, and he had grown to love her so deeply and desperately that sometimes it scared him. The thought of losing her nearly drove him out of his mind.

He tried to explain. 'It's just that… You can't behave like this anymore. Now that I have you, I can't lose you.'  
He knew immediately that he had said the wrong thing. She drew herself up and gave him a very cold look. '_Have_ me, Inspector Robinson? I beg your pardon, you do not _have_ me. I don't know how you see this relationship, Inspector, but there certainly is no _having_ involved. Don't think for a _moment_ that I am yours command, that you have the right to demand anything of me. It is not because we are… _involved_… that I am in any way beholden to you. I owe you nothing. I am not obliged to make any changes in my lifestyle simply to please you, and I don't plan on doing so. You are not to tell me what I can or cannot do. I am my own woman, Inspector. And you are the last person in the world that I thought I would ever have to say that to.'  
And with one last look of hurt and cold anger, she turned around and left his office in a whirl of silk and feathers, head held high.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a haze of misery and regret. He performed his duties perfunctorily, not really paying attention. In the evening, he volunteered for the late shift, relieving the constable on duty. He had no desire to go home to his cold and empty house and drown himself in whiskey, so he stayed at his desk as the station quieted around him and his office grew dark, except for the one lamp on his desk. He knew it was very improbable that anything would happen in the city tonight, so that allowed him plenty of time to think and hate himself. Because, however he turned over their conversation in his mind, he could only come to one conclusion. He was an idiot.

Now that he was calmer, he could look at the situation and his own reaction more objectively. He realized now that he had only been angry as a result of his earlier fear and panic, and the knowledge that those emotions could have been avoided if only she had behaved differently. But of course, he did not want her to behave differently, not really. As he had said once before, he would not change her for the world. Now that he was calm, he realized that she really hadn't done anything wrong, that she really had been doing her job, even if she was the only person in the world who felt that this was actually part of her duties. He cringed in shame as he remembered how he had shouted at her. Of course, he had been venting his emotions, his fear, his frustration, his relief – but that did not excuse his words.

He sat for a long time with his head in his hands. So this was it. This was how it ended. He knew she would never stand it if she felt trapped, knew she wouldn't stay with him if she felt even for a moment that he was being too possessive, that she was not free. And that was exactly what he had done. He gave a wry smile as he realized the irony of it all. He had been so afraid at the thought that he might lose her through some dangerous action of hers, and now his reaction to that fear was actually what had driven her away. He had lost her because he was afraid of losing her. He really was an idiot. He had no trouble admitting to himself that the last few weeks had been the best, and happiest, of his life. She had reawakened a joy for life inside of him that he had almost forgotten he had. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought that he might never see her again.

* * *

It was long after midnight when he heard the door to the station open. He looked up, surprised. It was very unusual for any trouble to happen this late on a week night. He got out of his chair, but before he could reach the door, it flew open, and there stood Phryne. She looked simply wonderful, as always. He realized that she must have slept and bathed and changed clothes, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he had done none of these things. He must have looked terrible, because a soft look came over her features as they stared at each other without speaking. Then, at exactly the same time, they both said: 'I've been selfish.' They looked at each other in amazement for a moment, then both gave a small smile. Phryne was the first to speak again.

'You were right, Jack. Not about everything, but about the fact that I don't really think about what I'm doing. I mean, I know perfectly well what kind of situation I'm getting myself into, but I don't think about what that might mean for… the people around me. I still don't think I did anything wrong, but I _will_ apologize for not understanding your outburst earlier. I should have realized you were only angry because you care for me. I should have understood that my actions impact you, whether I want them to or not. I won't change, mind you. But I will not get angry if you show concern for me.' A smile lifted one corner of her mouth. 'In whatever way you wish to express it.'

He couldn't believe it. He knew that this must have been a, for her, highly exceptional effort to see things from someone else's perspective, and he was grateful. But some things still rankled with him.  
'I will not stop trying to protect you, Phryne.'  
'And I will not stop trying to get around that to do whatever I like.'  
'Fair enough.' He smiled, then became serious again. 'I'm sorry, Phryne.'  
She held up her hand and softly said, 'It's alright, Jack.'  
'No, it's not! I shouldn't have…'  
She came closer and softly put her fingers against his lips. 'It's alright', she whispered.  
He didn't move for a moment, looking into her eyes, which were full of love and understanding. The next thing he knew, she was in his arms, and he was gripping her tightly, burying his face into her hair. He knew he must be hurting her, but she didn't complain, only gripped him back.  
'Oh God, I thought I'd lost you', he groaned.  
'You're not getting rid of me that easily, Inspector.' She tried to sound light-hearted, but he noticed that she was also holding on to him rather tightly. After a moment she asked, in a rather timid voice: 'So you still want me? Despite the danger, the recklessness, the…'  
He looked at her in disbelief. 'How can you even ask that? I just spent the most miserable afternoon of my life, thinking I'd never see you again. I still can't believe you're here… you're back… Oh Phryne…'

He kissed her fiercely, desperately. He was suddenly overcome by a need to feel her warm skin, to be as close to her as he could, to take her, to possess her as fully as possible to prove that she was there, that she was his. His hands ran feverishly over her body, down her spine, over her buttocks, back up over her stomach. He cupped a breast, pinching a nipple to hear her moan. 'Jack!' she gasped, laughing, trying half-heartedly to push him away. 'Really, here? I thought you were Mr. Propriety, right time and place and that kind of thing?'  
He stopped kissing her neck for long enough to look dangerously into her eyes and whisper huskily, 'Not always, Miss Fisher.'  
The next moment, he had turned her around, lifted her, and planted her firmly on his desk. He pushed her legs apart so he could stand between them and continued to kiss her throat, leaving small bite marks with his teeth. 'Jack!' she pretended to protest, but he didn't pay any attention. He didn't just want her. He _needed_ her. He pinched a nipple again and she gasped, gripping the back of his shirt as a sudden wave of desire washed over her. His hand moved hungrily down to her thigh, and he pushed her skirt up to her hips, running his fingers over her silk underwear. She leaned against him, arms around his neck, sighing longingly as his hand moved between her legs. When he noticed a damp patch, he couldn't resist. He pushed the fabric aside, and with one quick movement, pushed a finger inside. She moaned sharply, then bit his shoulder.

That was too much for him. She gasped as he suddenly pushed her down onto the desk, scattering papers everywhere, and pulled her hips close to the edge. He leaned over her to whisper in her ear, 'You have no idea how much I want you. Right here, right now.'  
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close so he was pressed tightly against her. 'Well, I certainly won't object, Inspector', she said, and he noticed how flushed she was, her eyes dark, her lips swollen and slightly open. With a groan of desire, he stood up to remove her slip and unbutton his trousers. She reached up and grabbed the edge of the desk as he firmly took hold of her hips and pushed in with one hard thrust. She cried out and wrapped her legs around him again, and he pressed into her deeper, enjoying the sight of her sprawled out beneath him, eyes closed, while involuntary moans escaped her lips every time he pushed himself inside of her.  
Suddenly he felt that there was too much distance between them, and he leaned forward, his elbows on the desk on either side of her, putting the weight and warmth of his body on hers. Somehow, she got her hands under his shirt, and suddenly she was digging her nails into his back. He gasped, but the pain was exquisite, and only served to spur him on as he took her harder, with a kind of desperation, a release for the anguish he had felt. She was here, she was real, she was his, her body trembling underneath him, her voice crying out as he moved faster, and when he felt her clench around him, he allowed his own release with a cry that was almost a sob, and he gripped her tightly as their bodies convulsed together.

Afterwards, he did not let go of her, until she softly started stroking his hair, his neck, his back. Gradually, his emotions subsided, and he released her enough to look at her. She had a soft, glowing look in her eyes as she rose up slightly to kiss him, ever so gently. 'It's alright, darling', she whispered, and he felt his worries melt away at last, to be replaced by that deep, warm feeling of happiness that only she could give him. Gentler now, he bent back down to hold her, and nuzzle her neck. She giggled, and then couldn't resist anymore.  
'Well,' she said, amused, 'All those times I sat on your desk, Inspector, and I really never thought I would ever be in quite… _this_ position.'  
His eyes suddenly flew open in alarm as a realization of where they were returned to him, along with the knowledge that the door to the station had been unlocked the entire time. Anyone could have walked in. Moreover, it was far from professional to conduct… personal affairs… in his place of work. He quickly withdrew, stood up, and started to make himself look decent again, but she laughingly sat up and caught him by his tie, pulling him close again.  
'What does it matter, really?' she smiled up at him, and wrapped her arms around his neck for another kiss. As his lips touched hers, the concerns of the outside world miraculously seemed to disappear again. He was so grateful she was still here. Anything else… yes, what did it matter really?


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's note: at the request of several reviewers, a chapter on Phryne showing her 'exhibitionist side'. I loved writing this, but at times doubted a bit if I was staying true to the characters, whether this was really something she would do. But then I thought: fan dance._

_Enjoy, and if you can, please review and let me know what you think!_

* * *

Jack put down the phone and sighed.  
'A woman was shot on the pier,' he explained to Miss Fisher, who had been standing next to him while he was talking to the station. 'Then fell off, into the sea. She didn't drown, so she was dead before she hit the water. The problem is, we have no idea who she is. Nothing was found to identify her. If she's not reported missing soon, we'll have a hard time solving this. The thing is…' He frowned. 'I get the feeling that the constable on duty did a rather bad job of looking around the crime scene. I feel like he hasn't been very thorough… Might have missed something…'  
Phryne looked up at him with a delighted grin. 'Well Jack, you know what that means?'  
'Do I want to know?'  
'A day at the beach!'  
'See, I didn't want to know.'  
'The weather is just perfect.'  
'But… it's my day off…'  
'And it's the beach, Jack! Come on, it'll be _fun_!'  
'Why don't I believe that?' he grumbled, but she was already pulling on her coat, and he knew that this was one battle he wouldn't win. Moreover, he really did feel like he needed to look around that crime scene. So he got his hat and coat and together they got into the car and drove to the seaside.

It was a warm day, with a cloudless sky and hardly any wind. Luckily, they both had the foresight to leave their hats and coats in the car, but still, Jack was soon feeling much too hot in his customary three-piece suit. Phryne, on the other hand, looked perfectly comfortable in a light blouse and skirt, and was clearly enjoying the long walk over the sand to the pier that was their crime scene. Jack frowned when they arrived – the scene was no longer secured by the police and people had already trampled all over it. Apparently the officer on duty had felt that the place would offer them no more clues, but this would make their work much more difficult. They walked up and down the pier, noticing nothing of interest. By then, Jack was feeling distinctly uncomfortable in his warm clothes, and Phryne seemed to notice. 'Jack, why don't you take off at least _some _layers of clothing. Honestly, only you would come to the beach wearing a suit. It's perfectly ridiculous.'  
'Well, seeing as we were coming here on a police investigation, I…' He suddenly broke off as he noticed that her hands were undoing the buttons of his jacket.  
'Miss Fisher, are you seriously undressing me in public?'  
She laughed. 'Well, someone needs to, before you overheat.'  
He pushed her hands away, looking around furtively. 'I can take it from here, Miss Fisher, thank you.'  
She gave him a coquettish look from underneath her eyelashes. 'Well… if you insist, Inspector.'

Jacket over his arm, Jack suggested they take a look underneath the pier, but there was nothing to be found there, either. As they emerged again, Phryne sighed and stared out at the waves. Suddenly her eyes narrowed, and she pointed to an object floating on the surface of the water.  
'Jack, look! There!'  
Before he had time to react, she had kicked off her shoes and was wading into the water.  
'Wait… what…' he spluttered, appalled. 'What in heaven's name are you doing? Get back here!'  
But she had already found what she was looking for. Now waist-deep in the water, she triumphantly waved what looked like a leather-bound little book in the air. 'I've got something!'  
She waded back to the beach, where he was waiting for her with a furious expression.  
'Acting without thinking again, Miss Fisher!'  
'It wasn't far out, Jack, and I'm an excellent swimmer.'  
'I wasn't talking about that! Look at yourself, you're all wet!'  
She flashed him a very wicked grin. 'Usually you don't object to that, Inspector.'  
He rolled his eyes at the innuendo, not in the mood for games. 'You need dry clothes.'  
'A very shrewd observation. Well then, let's get back to the car, and go home. I don't think we'll find any more clues here.'  
But as she started to walk back along the beach, he suddenly noticed how her thin, wet clothes were clinging to her body in a way that was _much _too suggestive. In fact, she was attracting rather a lot of attention from the other beachgoers, especially the men. He quickly went to stand in front of her.  
'No, I don't think so, Miss Fisher. Better stay here for a while until you're… a little drier.'  
'Yes, good idea, Jack. I wouldn't want to ruin my upholstery by getting seawater all over it.'  
And she promptly started to roll down her stockings to put them out to dry on the sand. He felt a little uncomfortable about her performing such a private act in the middle of a fairly crowed beach, and he again looked around furtively to check if many people noticed. They did.

He turned back to Phryne, who was of course completely unfazed. 'Miss Fisher…' he started carefully, with the intention of suggesting that she had better put her stockings back on before people started to talk. However, she distracted him by straightening up and pushing the salvaged book into his hands. 'I think it's a diary. Take a look at it.'  
He opened the book carefully. It did indeed look like a diary. Even though it was waterlogged, and the ink had run in most places, he thought it might still be possible to decipher enough to give them some clues as to the identity of the victim. He looked up to tell her that, and his mouth fell open in horror.  
Oh God, she was _not_ taking off her blouse! But she was, calmly unbuttoning the front and shrugging it off to reveal a silk white camisole underneath. He felt himself go extremely red and instantly took his jacket from his arm to hold it open in front of her, trying to shield her from view from three sides at once.  
'What – are – you – _doing_?!' he hissed through gritted teeth.  
She looked up at him with an infuriating expression of being completely reasonable. 'What? You said we should stay here until my clothes were dry – I don't want to sit here all afternoon – and clothes dry faster when laid out in the sun. So I'm taking them off.' And she proceeded to neatly step out of her skirt. She was now only dressed in her slip and her camisole, which had a silk little skirt attached to it that reached to just below her buttocks. God help him, she would be the death of him.

'Put your clothes back on!' he growled urgently, looking over his shoulder to throw a very angry look at a couple of young men who were walking by and seemed very interested.  
'Oh come on, Jack, this is practically the same as wearing a bathing suit.'  
'But it's _not_ your bathing suit, it's your underwear! And people are starting to notice!'  
She followed his gaze to the young men, threw them a flirty look over her shoulder and waved. They instantly turned crimson and hurried away. 'See? Nothing to worry about.'  
By now he was ready to explode. However, he knew perfectly well that she was doing this to provoke him more than anything else, and getting angry would only be counterproductive. So he tried to take a calming breath, before saying firmly: 'Right. Well then, take my jacket, and _sit down_ until your things are dry.'  
'Fine,' she said, taking the jacket from him, spreading it out on the sand, and sitting down on top of it, stretching out luxuriously in the warm sunlight. That was the last straw.  
He kneeled down next to her, looked at her darkly and said in a very soft, very dangerous voice: 'Miss Fisher, if, in about five minutes, I drop dead of an apoplexy, please realize that it will be entirely your doing. I meant for you to get _under_ the jacket – as you know perfectly well – and if you don't do so immediately, I will charge you with public indecency.'  
She looked at him challengingly for a long moment, then finally, miraculously, she gave in. She rolled her eyes at him, but got up so he could take the jacket. He brushed off the sand. 'Sit down.' She did as she was told, and he draped the jacket around her shoulders. 'Now pull up your knees.' She hugged her knees to her chest, so he could envelop her entirely in the jacket. 'And hold it _closed_. Agreed?' She nodded, and he finally felt able to relax again. With a sigh of relief, he dropped down onto the sand next to her. 'This is absolutely the last time I'm taking you to the beach.'  
She grinned.

They looked out at the ocean for a moment without speaking, then she slightly turned her head to look at him.  
'Why did you react so…'  
But he cut off the question immediately. 'Because it's not decent. You're a lady.'  
She pouted. 'Sometimes it's very _boring_ to be a lady.'  
He snorted. 'Forgive me for not feeling sorry for you. I don't feel like you let your title get in the way of your enjoyment of life very often.'  
She gave a satisfied smile. 'Well, yes, I suppose that's true.'  
They stared at the waves for a while in companionable silence, until Jack noticed that she had crept almost imperceptibly closer, so that they were now almost shoulder to shoulder. He knew that look.  
'Public place, Miss Fisher', he said in a warning tone, refusing to look at her.  
She leaned against him, and his eye was caught by a glimpse of white as his jacket slid down to reveal an ivory shoulder, and a strap of lacy lingerie. He swallowed, but kept his face as dispassionate as possible as he reached over to cover her up again. She nuzzled his neck.  
'Stop it.'  
'Come on, Jack, there's no harm in showing some affection in public.'  
He looked down at her to explain exactly why that notion was wrong in all possible ways, but he never got the chance, as she suddenly turned up her face and kissed him full on the lips.

He drew back instantly, and she laughed at the look of utter confusion on his face. 'See! You're still alive, and your reputation untarnished.'  
'How do you know that?' he grumbled.  
'Because the beach is nearly empty by now.'  
He looked around, and saw that it was true. It was getting late in the afternoon, and most people were starting to head home. Phryne nestled close to him and looked up at him with those irresistible blue eyes.  
'There's almost nobody left…' she suggested playfully, but he resisted the temptation.  
'_Almost_ nobody is not _nobody_, Miss Fisher', he stated firmly.  
'You're too much concerned with what other people think, Inspector.'  
'And you are too little concerned with what other people think. It's only natural, I suppose. You have your assured position in society, thanks to your wealth, your title, your connections. But I have a reputation to think of, a job that I need to keep.'  
She looked contrite for a moment. 'I'm sorry.'  
He gave a one-sided smile. 'Don't be, it only confuses me.'  
She smiled, and reached over to feel her clothes. 'I think they're nearly dry now, maybe I can put them back on and…' But her words were cut off by a sudden gust of wind that lifted the light pieces of cloth and blew the blouse right from between her fingers.  
She exclaimed 'Oh!', and next thing he knew, she had thrown off the jacket and was running down the beach in her underwear, chasing down the blouse and laughing like a child.  
He allowed himself a moment to look towards the heavens in exasparation, then got up, snatched up the jacket, and sprinted after her.

The wind blew the blouse under the pier, and that was where she caught it, and he caught her. They tumbled down onto the sand, both out of breath, Phryne still laughing so delightedly he didn't have the heart to scold her. He simply covered her up with the jacket again, and tried to get up, but she pulled him down, wrapping her arms around his neck.  
'Phryne…' he protested, looking around in alarm, but she shushed him.  
'Look, Jack. It's almost sunset. Everyone has gone home.'  
She was quite right. The beach was deserted by now. He still wasn't entirely comfortable.  
'Someone might still walk by…' he suggested feebly, but she would no longer accept his excuses.  
'I'm willing to risk it', she said with a look full of longing, as she drew him down for another kiss, and this time he allowed himself to kiss her back. The setting sun was throwing long shadows, and underneath the pier it was almost quite dark already. He knew they would probably not be noticed from a distance. Nevertheless, he couldn't help looking around again, just to be sure.  
'Jack,' she whispered, 'you worry too much. You need to learn to relax sometimes. Nobody will be walking on the beach after sunset.'  
He knew she was right, and when she kissed his neck and pressed herself against him, he felt his resistance begin to crumble. He could feel the warmth and shape of her body through the thin layer of silk, and he felt his own body react in response. He pushed her down in the sand and pressed his mouth to hers, using his tongue to lightly swish past her lips, teasing, not allowing himself to get drawn in when her lips parted to give him access. He bit her bottom lip softly, then moved to kiss her throat. Meanwhile, his hands were gliding over the smooth silk covering her stomach and breasts, and she squirmed when he intentionally avoided all her sensitive spots.

'Jack!', she complained when his hand stroked the soft inside of her bare thigh, without moving upwards. He looked down at her uncertainly.  
'Do you really want to do this?'  
She looked up at him with a look of excitement and anticipation. 'Yes,' she whispered breathlessly. 'The open air, the breeze, the sound of the waves, don't you love it? It's so different from what we're used to, don't you think that's exhilarating? The setting sun, the warm sand…'  
'The chance of getting caught…'  
She grinned up at him. 'Almost non-existent at this point. And…' she pressed her body against his in a most alluring way and whispered: 'don't you think that rather adds to the excitement?'  
He wasn't sure about that last part, but by now his brain wasn't really in charge anymore. So he gave in and kissed her fiercely, and she moaned in satisfaction as he pressed his hand between her thighs. But when he moved to roll on top of her, she stopped him.  
'Have you ever made love on a beach before?' she asked him.  
He looked at her sarcastically. 'What do you think?'  
She chose to ignore the sarcasm. 'Well, the thing is, you have to be careful about the sand not… getting places. It chafes, you see, so…'  
He lost track of what she was saying for a moment as he tried very hard not to think of when (and especially, with whom) she might have had sex on a beach before. For a moment, he felt a stab of jealousy, but he pushed it away. Don't go there, he told himself firmly. After all, he knew what he was getting into when he first kissed her. And he had sworn to himself that he would take her for whom she was, with everything that entailed. And after all, he thought with an inward smile, she was here now, with him, and that was all that really mattered. He managed to focus his attention back to her just in time to hear her say 'So I think I'd better get on top.'

He blushed a bit to hear her discuss positions so openly, and she laughed.  
'Jack, you have taken me in about every possible way, but you blush when I talk about it?'  
He felt himself go even redder. It was different in the heat of passion. He wasn't really the kind of person to talk these things over beforehand (or afterwards), like it was something practical. He felt things should happen spontaneously. But Phryne seemed unperturbed. 'It's really the most practical if you lie on your back.'  
He did so a little reluctantly, feeling slightly disinclined to relinquish his dominant position in a situation where he did not feel completely in control in the first place. But a moment later, her lithe body was on top of him, and he suddenly didn't care anymore, she was so warm and willing in his arms. She kissed him passionately, then started to move her hips against him in exquisite torture, until he felt he would go mad with his desire for her.

'Phryne,' he whispered, his voice cracking, and she promptly started to unbutton his trousers. By now it was nearly dark, but her skin was so white, she seemed almost luminous in the dusky light. He groaned when her soft fingers touched him and drew him out, caressing him for a moment. Then she lifted her hips and, still holding him to guide him in, she slowly lowered herself onto him with a soft moan. He grasped her hips tightly as she starting moving above him, loving the fact that he could look at her, watch her arch her back and throw back her head in ecstasy.  
He enjoyed the view for several longs moments, before he pulled her down on top of him, both because he felt she was too conspicuous sitting up, and because he wanted to feel her. He kissed her, tangling one hand into her hair, running the other down her back, enjoying the feel of smooth silk. He then let both hands wander to her hips again, found her buttocks, and cupped them firmly, which allowed him some control over the pace she was setting. She buried her head against his shoulder and murmured huskily 'Oh, Jack!'  
He felt a great stab of excitement to hear her say his name like that, and he bucked his hips to take her deeper, making her gasp. She tilted her hips; suddenly she was so very tight around him, and he pressed into her hard, groaning as he tried to control himself. He didn't need to wait long. The increased pressure was making her moan, and he felt her muscles tense as she arched her back. He held off for a few more strokes, until he felt her clench around him and heard her cry out, holding on to him tightly. He allowed himself to let go, grasping her hips to pull her deeper so she enveloped him completely as he felt the glorious release sweep through him.

She collapsed on top of him, and he loved to feel the weight of her body on his, loved that he could wrap his arms around her and caress her softly. He closed his eyes contentedly, feeling that he could just stay like this all night. After a while, though, a cool breeze blew under the pier, and he felt her start to shiver. He wrapped her closer in his arms, but at the same time he opened his eyes and said, 'We should get you dressed – finally.'  
She gave him a lazy smile and rolled off him to look for her blouse. He buttoned up his trousers, then ducked out from under the pier to retrieve her skirt and stockings, which were still lying where she had left them out to dry. When she was fully dressed again, they stood for a moment together next to the pier to gaze up at the night sky, where millions of stars were visible. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he put his arm around her waist, thinking that it really wasn't so bad to make love on a beach, or to take a risk every now and then. Well… a carefully calculated risk, that is. He kissed the top of her head, and together they started walking back towards the car.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's note: This chapter is dedicated to WhatsABriard, who requested this scene. It took me weeks to write, since I wanted to get it just right. I'm still a bit nervous about pushing that 'publish' button._

_ I __would really like to hear what you think of it, so please review if you have the time. Much appreciated! :)_

_In the meantime: a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! Also to everyone who has put in a request. I've taken note of all of the requests, and I'd like to write them all, but the gods of inspiration are fickle, so you may have to wait a while if something else strikes my fancy :)_

_Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think!_

* * *

Jack straightened his tie compulsively for what felt like the hundredth time. He wished he didn't feel so nervous. In fact, he told himself, there was nothing to be nervous about. But he couldn't help feeling that this was an important evening, and that it might turn out very uncomfortable for him. Because tonight, for the first time since he and Phryne had started their relationship, Mac was coming to dinner, and Jack had no doubt that he would be subjected to very thorough scrutiny. He was a little apprehensive about the result, because Mac had a very sharp tongue, and very little inclination to keep her opinions to herself. Jack reminded himself of the fact that Mac had, at a couple of occasions, expressed something like respect and even liking for him, but that was before he was having an affair with her best friend. He was nervous that she would not deem him worthy of Phryne (a fear that was perhaps exacerbated by his own continued nagging doubts on the subject). In other words, he wanted to make a good impression.

Phryne was still getting ready, doing whatever it was she did that made her look so fabulous, so Jack was waiting in the parlor, enjoying a whiskey and a last couple of minutes of calm before what he knew would be a very turbulent evening. Phryne alone was sometimes more than he could handle. Add Mac to that, and the Inspector knew full well that he would have to keep his wits about him to keep up. He felt that the energy of these two women combined was enough to flatten most men, but he was determined to brave the storm head-on.

A few moments later, Phryne swept into the room, wearing a cream-colored dress and her signature scarlet lipstick. She immediately sat herself down on his lap to kiss him, and Jack rumbled his approval as he wrapped his arms around her. In fact, a dangerous look appeared in his eyes as he contemplated how delicious she looked, and how much he wanted to take her straight back upstairs. 'Do you like the dress?' she asked, and he nodded distractedly, much more interested in how exactly he would get her _out_ of it. However, these happy fantasies were abruptly cut off by a brisk knock on the door. 'Mac's here', Phryne said brightly, and Jack internally braced himself as Mr. Butler went to open the door. Impeccably dressed in a suit as usual, Mac marched through the door, handed Mr. Butler her hat, and immediately rolled her eyes at the sight of Phryne sitting on Jack's lap. 'I'm not going to have to endure this kind of sentimentality all evening, am I?' she asked in an exasperated voice.

As ever, Phryne seemed completely immune to her friend's grumpiness, and rose gracefully to embrace her. 'Mac, I'm so glad to see you! It's been a while.'  
'Yes, well, I imagine you were busy with other things', Mac replied, raising a meaningful eyebrow at the Inspector.  
'I have indeed', Phryne replied unabashed, throwing Jack a glowing look.  
Already feeling a little uncomfortable, Jack got up to shake Mac's hand. 'Doctor MacMillan', he greeted her with his usual courtesy.  
A moment later, Mr. Butler announced that dinner was ready, and Jack followed the two women into the dining room with the feeling that his would be a … challenging evening.

* * *

To his surprise, however, dinner went very smoothly. He seemed to fit seamlessly into their pattern of conversation, joining them effortlessly in their discussions, matching each witty remark with a suited repartee, and fending off all teasing comments with perfect composure. In fact, by the end of the meal, he was sensing a vibe of definite approval coming from Mac, though she was trying not to show it. They talked about Jack and Phryne's latest case, Hugh and Dot's upcoming wedding, and Mac's work at the hospital, and Jack was finally starting to relax.

When the plates had been cleared away, and the whiskey had been brought out, the three of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Then, Mac straightened with an air of coming to business at last, and Jack felt himself tense slightly.  
'So', she started with a most businesslike look at the two of them. 'You two.'  
'Yes,' said Phryne, tilting her chin defiantly.  
'So what is this?' Mac continued, and Jack swallowed uncomfortably. That was an excellent question.  
But Phryne answered as lightly as ever. 'It is what it is, Mac, you know me.'  
Mac nodded. 'But you are – officially – involved now?'  
For a moment, Jack was a little worried about how Phryne would react to the word 'officially', but she just exchanged a quick look with him, took his hand and said 'Well… yes.'  
Mac contemplated them both for a moment, then nodded in a satisfied way and grumbled 'finally', before taking another sip of her whiskey, and that was it. Relieved, Jack sat back in his chair and the conversation resumed about other matters.

Several glasses of whiskey later, Jack was rather enjoying himself, leaning back in his chair as he mostly listened to the two women talking and laughing, bringing up past adventures they had shared for his amusement. He noticed how finely attuned they were to one another, how well they were able to anticipate what the other was going to say, and he suddenly realized how very deep their friendship must be, in spite of the fact that their temperaments were so vastly different. The realization brought a question to his mind.  
'I'm curious,' he asked when there was a lull in the conversation. 'Tell me, how did you two meet?'  
He had expected Phryne to immediately launch enthusiastically into another whirling story, but to his surprise, both women were suddenly very quiet and exchanged a look full of meaning that he couldn't quite interpret. He noticed that Mac was trying to suppress a grin, and Phryne glanced at him uncertainly. He sat up a little straighter. This was decidedly strange; he had never seen her think twice before she said anything – there must be more to the story than he had anticipated when he had asked his perfectly innocent question.

Phryne looked at Mac again. 'What do you think?'  
Mac shrugged. 'It's up to you if you want to tell him.' She glanced at Jack with a mischievous glint in her eye. 'If you think he can handle it.'  
Jack was starting to feel a little apprehensive by now. Maybe he didn't want to know. But Phryne seemed to have come to a decision.  
'Fine', she said. 'It's a funny story, really.'  
'Funny,' Mac snorted. 'Let's see if the Inspector shares that opinion.'  
Phryne ignored her. 'Well…' she started slowly. 'We met a long time ago…'  
'Longer than I care to remember', Mac mumbled into her glass.  
'I was still very young then,' Phryne continued meditatively, 'and my taste in men was somewhat… questionable at the time.'  
'Awful, really,' Mac interrupted. 'Believe me, Inspector, you're a vast improvement.'  
Jack inclined his head at the somewhat questionable compliment, but didn't reply. He wasn't really liking where this was going.  
'Anyway,' Phryne continued as if there had been no interruption. 'One night, I was having drinks at the bar of a very nice hotel with a handsome but particularly gormless individual who kept droning on about his achievements on the golf course or something like that. I was bored half to death and seriously regretting that I had accepted his invitation, when suddenly he finally did something interesting: he started choking on an olive. I hardly had time to react, before Mac suddenly appeared out of nowhere…'  
'The seat next to you', Mac interjected drily.  
'… gripped the man around the waist, and expertly used a Heimlich maneuver, saving his life.'  
'Quite heroically,' Mac added, taking another sip of her whiskey.  
'Well, at that point, the fellow was so embarrassed, completely red, and probably quite overcome by shock…'  
'… that he'd been rescued by a woman', Mac mumbled, but Phryne ignored her again.  
'So he made his excuses and left', Phryne finished.

Jack smiled. That wasn't too bad. 'So that's how you met.'  
Mac threw him an indecipherable look, one corner of her mouth pulled down in a half-smile. 'Well… that's not really the whole story.'  
Phryne sighed and glanced at Jack again before she continued. 'I was very grateful that Mac had rescued me from such a horribly tedious evening, so I invited her to stay and have a drink with me. We had a tremendous evening together, and rather too much to drink, I daresay…'  
Jack was taking an absentminded sip of his whiskey.  
'… so we ended up spending the night together.' Phryne finished matter-of-factly.  
Jack choked on his whiskey so hard he thought he could feel it come out through his nose. He emerged from his glass, spluttering and coughing, to stare in disbelief at the woman he loved. Phryne offered him a handkerchief with a sympathetic look, while Mac smiled in satisfaction. 'See, I told you he wouldn't be able to handle it.'  
He finally regained his breath. 'You…'  
'Well, yes', said Phryne calmly, with a small smile.  
'And what a night it was', said Mac reminiscently.  
'Mac!' Phryne grinned, but tried to hush her friend after one look at the scandalized expression on Jack's face.  
'Anyway,' Mac continued without taking the least notice, 'I still think it's quite marvelous that we ended up such good friends after that. I don't think a lot of lifelong friendships began with a night of…'  
'Mac!' Phryne interjected again, throwing Jack a look of mixed concern and amusement before explaining: 'You see, over breakfast the next day, Mac and I discovered that we had quite a lot in common. So even though I made it perfectly clear that it had been a one-time-only thing for me, we stayed in touch afterwards, and became friends.'  
'It's a shame, though', said Mac dispassionately, while Jack threw back his drink, evidently feeling that he needed something strong. 'It could've really been something, if it wasn't for your unfortunate preference for cock.'  
For the second time, Jack choked on his whiskey, but Phryne was laughing.  
'Well, I _do _have that', she smiled, looking fondly at Jack. But by now, the Inspector was completely speechless, opening and closing his mouth several times with no sound coming out. Phryne seemed to realize that he was genuinely shocked, and probably thought it best to get Mac out of the room. So she remarked that it was getting late, and Mac got the hint, getting up and announcing that she would be going home. As she walked around the table, she wished Jack goodnight with a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. Phryne walked her friend to the door, and hugged her goodbye. Jack noticed a few more moments of whispered conversation, stifled laughter, and then Mac was gone.

'Are you alright?'  
Jack looked up to see Phryne leaning against the door jamb, a soft smile on her face. He nodded curtly. She came to stand behind him and ran her fingers through his hair, which had a soothing effect. He took a deep breath and leaned his head back against her. She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his chest and to his stomach. 'Let's go to bed', she whispered in his ear. He hesitated for a moment. He was still trying to process everything he had just heard, not sure what to do with the information. He had always known that Phryne's idea of what was decent differed vastly from his own (or, for that matter, from the rest of society), but he had never suspected that she would go this far. He swallowed hard as he tried to wrap his head around what she had done. But he felt her hands on him, and gradually came to the realization that she was still Phryne, still the same wonderful woman he loved so much that she had become a part of him. He sighed as he realized that he would just have to come to terms with this. So he nodded silently, and got up to follow her to the bedroom.

* * *

Once they were in bed together, in the privacy and intimacy of the bedroom, Phryne nestled close to Jack and looked up at him questioningly.  
'Go ahead. Ask whatever it is you want to ask.'  
So she had noticed the crease between his eyebrows. He tried to untangle his thoughts to find a simple question to start with.  
'You and Mac… was it… just the one time?'  
'Just the one time', she assured him.  
'And only with Mac?'  
She hesitated. 'There were… one or two others.'  
He looked at her, incomprehension etched across his face. 'But… why?'  
She caressed his chest with soft fingers as she tried to explain. 'You know me, Jack, I like to try everything, as long as it's new and exciting. Being with a woman is different from being with a man.'  
In spite of himself, his curiosity was piqued. 'Different… how?'  
'Well…' she thought about it for a moment. 'It's thrilling to explore a body that is so different from what you're used to. A body that is so much like your own in many ways, yet subtly different. It is interesting to try out new things, experience new sights, new tastes, new sensations…'  
Suddenly, Jack's imagination was teeming with images that weren't at all bad. He tried to push them away, but was quite unsuccessful. He really didn't want to ask his next question, but it escaped his lips anyway. 'And with Mac…?'  
Phryne smiled. 'Well, that was the first time I'd ever spent the night with a woman, and I can tell you it was quite a revelation. She was very experienced, even then, and very skilled. She taught me things about my body that I didn't even know myself. Being with a woman always has the advantage that they know much better than most men what women like. They are gentler, and patient, and they know where and how to touch, to kiss…'  
Jack glanced at her uncertainly. 'But then… why are you here with me?'

She grinned up at him. 'Oh darling, don't worry, you're at least as skilled as any woman. And besides, well, I do have a… preference for the finer parts of the male body', she replied, deliberately using a more delicate phrase than Mac had used. She ran her hand appreciatively over Jack's muscled arms and shoulders.  
'I love how strong you are…'  
She took his hand and kissed the palm.  
'I love your hands, how you always find the right spots…'  
Jack involuntarily thawed a little as she ran her hand over his chest and he felt his body react to her touch. How did she do it, he wondered wryly, how did she always manage to draw him in, to weave her spell in such a way that he always forgot his objections, his apprehensions, his worries, even his morals. She could not be good for him… but then why was it such bliss to lie here beside her, listen to her warm voice, and let himself be carried away by her caresses.

She trailed her nails over the skin of his stomach and he shivered.  
'I love it when you're rough…' Her voice was a wicked whisper in his ear now.  
Then, her touch became light as a feather as she moved her hand further down.  
'And I love it when you're slow…'  
He swallowed hard as his body tensed in anticipation.  
'I love that you're such a gentleman, Jack, but I also love that you're a _man_.'  
His breath caught in his throat as she wrapped her fingers around him.  
'There's nothing quite so divine,' she whispered seductively as she slowly started to caress him, 'as feeling your body on mine.' His breathing quickened as he closed his eyes and surrendered. 'When I feel you inside me, it's…' words failed her now, and she just sighed with a small moan as she pushed her hips against him.

It was too much, he couldn't resist anymore. He suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her roughly back into the pillows, rolling on top so he could look down at her. She bit her lip and smiled up at him, her eyes bright with excitement as she opened her legs for him.  
He reached one hand down between her thighs to guide himself to her opening, waited for just a moment, then forcefully pushed inside, drawing a cry from her lips as she raised her hips to meet him. His eyes were dark and fierce, and he kept them firmly locked on hers as he demanded huskily: 'Like this?'  
'Yes,' she answered, her voice barely a whisper, 'Yes, just like that. Now don't stop.'  
But he was firmly in control now, and withdrew agonizingly slowly, making her squirm underneath him.  
When he finally entered again, she moaned and closed her eyes.  
'No', he commanded. 'Look at me.'  
She opened her eyes to look up at him as he took her deeply, deliberately, stroke by stroke by stroke. He didn't waver for a moment, keeping a steady rhythm that was so slow she could hardly bear it. She moaned hungrily and lifted her hips, but he would not be rushed, refused to go faster even when she begged him, keeping her on the edge between frustration and ecstasy until she felt like screaming.  
Finally he stopped, and before she had time to complain, he put his mouth close to her ear and growled: 'On your knees.'  
She obeyed him immediately, hungry for release, and was rewarded when he gripped her hips and thrust in hard, finally letting himself go, increasing the rhythm as he abandoned his restraint. She moaned in satisfaction, and he slipped one arm around her waist to caress her. He had teased her for too long; the moment his fingers touched her, she felt herself go to pieces. She arched her back and cried out as the orgasm rocked her body, and through the rushing in her ears, she heard him cry out too as he gripped her tighter. A moment later, they collapsed together on the bed, completely out of breath.

She immediately turned and punched him on the chest.  
'Damn you, Jack Robinson', she grumbled, but he grinned and took her in his arms, even though she pretended to protest.  
'Violence is never the answer, Miss Fisher', he teased her, and she noticed that he seemed very pleased with himself.  
'You completely deserved it', she huffed, but inwardly she smiled.  
'Yes, I suppose I did', he answered lazily, stretching comfortably on the bed.

They rested quietly for a while, and Jack started to doze off slightly with the happy feeling that he had the upper hand for once. Phryne contemplated that he was looking much too smug, and couldn't resist the temptation to discomfit him one last time.  
'Jack?' she whispered.  
'Hmm?'  
'Remember what we were talking about earlier?'  
He opened one eye to look at her darkly. 'Vividly.'  
'Well…' she drawled, 'there's another possibility, you know.'  
He knew he shouldn't ask. He asked anyway. 'Another possibility?'  
'Wouldn't you like the idea of having two women in bed with you?' she suggested seductively.  
His eyes flew open in alarm. 'Look, Phryne, I really like Mac, but…'  
She burst out laughing. 'No darling, not Mac! She'd never go for it. Just… someone else. Think about it.'  
He did. The tempting images her words had evoked earlier returned to his mind. Then he looked down into the sparkling eyes of his favorite lady detective and one corner of his mouth turned down in a half-smile as he snorted and pulled her closer.  
'No, thank you. You're quite enough trouble on your own.'  
She smiled in satisfaction and bit his earlobe to prove it.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note: it took me a while to write this, so a slightly longer chapter to make up for that. I'm still open to suggestions for future chapters, by the way._

_A big thank you to LemmingDancer for giving this one a read-through!_

_Enjoy! And please review :-)_

* * *

They were having, yet again, a rerun of a conversation that was becoming increasingly familiar to Jack. Once again, Miss Fisher was trying to convince him to do something he didn't feel like doing at all, using her considerable powers of persuasion in the process, and he was trying to stand his ground, deflecting her charms and arguments by adopting a grumpy attitude he hoped would scare her off. It never did. She always got her way. But not this time, he swore. _So here we go again._

'No.'  
'Come on, Jack.'  
'No.'  
'Please?'  
'Still very much no.'  
'It'll be fun!'  
'That's what you say every time: about the beach, about your aunt's dinner party,…'  
'Well, and didn't you end up having a good time on both occasions?' she replied with a meaningful look, running her hand over his chest. He ignored it.  
'Only after suffering through considerable discomfort on my part.'  
'And wasn't it worth it?' she asked, looking up from beneath her eyelashes and moving tantalizingly close to him. He tried to ignore that, too.  
'It won't be this time.'  
She pouted. 'Please?'  
'Miss Fisher, you can try all you want, I am _not_ taking you to a jazz club!'

They were standing in the hallway, arguing with muted voices so the rest of the household wouldn't hear.  
She rolled her eyes, and decided it was time to use her strongest argument. 'But you _know _our suspect has been spotted there several times. If we could go and blend into the crowd, it would be the perfect opportunity to observe him and see who his associates are without attracting any attention to ourselves.'  
He said in an exasperated voice: 'I see absolutely no possibility of me 'blending in' without attracting any attention. Anyone can see I don't belong in a jazz club. I could just as well walk in with 'policeman' written on my forehead.'  
She stroked his arm. 'You just need to relax a little… enjoy the atmosphere…'  
He snorted. 'Somehow, I don't see that happening. No. You can go by yourself if you really have to.'  
She raised an eyebrow. 'Says the man who berated me only weeks ago for behaving irresponsibly when it comes to interacting too closely with possibly dangerous suspects. And now you'd really send me out on my own to investigate this man?'  
He grumbled something inaudible. Of course he wouldn't let her go alone, he just didn't want to go at all. A jazz club, of all places. He didn't think he could imagine any situation where he would feel more out of place.  
She was watching him closely. 'How else do you suggest we track the suspect, Jack? You know this is our best shot.'  
He looked at her darkly, in the knowledge that she was right. 'I'm doing this under protest.'  
'And you've made that abundantly clear', she replied with an amused smile. 'But sometimes you have to make sacrifices in this line of work, Inspector. Even if that involves…' she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, '… going out and having fun.'  
He grumbled, his resistance crumbling now the battle was lost anyway. 'Fine.'  
She flashed him a bright smile, and he sighed inwardly. At least _she _was happy. 'Fabulous! There's a wonderful band playing tonight, and some friends of mine will be there to see it.'

She took a step backwards and gave him a scrutinizing look from head to toe that caused him to frown.  
'What?' he asked defensively.  
'You'll have to go home and change, darling. Wear something… dashing.'  
He stared at her. 'I don't _have_ anything 'dashing'.'  
But she pushed him out the door without further ado. 'At least don't show up wearing one of your three-piece police suits. That would completely blow our cover.'  
'Then what _should_ I wear?' he asked exasperatedly as he started to descend the steps.  
'You know… something casual.'  
'Shall I just show up in my shirt sleeves, then?' he asked, using his most sarcastic tone. She completely ignored it.  
'No, I don't think so. Just wear a casual suit.'  
'A _casual suit? _ What is… never mind, I'll figure something out.' He turned and walked away down the path to the front gate, muttering under his breath.  
She looked after him, a smile playing on her lips. Oh, this would definitely be fun.

That evening, he showed up wearing a quite suitable outfit: he was dressed tastefully, yet not too formally. 'Perfect!' she cried when she opened the door to him. He just nodded, feeling there was no need to tell her that he had visited his tailor that afternoon and had simply allowed the man to dress him.  
He looked at her, and couldn't help but admit that she looked very alluring. Jewels sparkled in her hair and her ears, and her dress was black and very modern, but he liked her in it. When he told her she looked lovely, she beamed at him, and he felt his grumpiness disappear, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. After all, she had willingly become a part of his world at the station, even though it did not come natural to her. So it was only fair that he should allow her to give him a taste of _her _world now. She was asking him to share one night with her at a place and amongst people that she really liked. He should at least give it a chance. He offered her his arm. 'Well then, let's go', he said, smiling his crooked smile. He grabbed the keys to the Hispano from the hall table. 'But I'm driving.'

A short drive later, they arrived at The Hopper, one of Melbourne's hottest jazz clubs. The moment they entered, Jack realized that, in spite of his good intentions, he didn't stand a chance. It was very warm inside, the music was loud, and the club was full of people like Phryne, enjoying themselves with reckless abandon. Catching sight of his expression, she turned to him with a warning look on her face. 'Don't you dare arrest anyone tonight! Remember that we're just here as guests.'  
He reluctantly growled his consent, his eyes already scanning the packed room. After a few moments, he turned to Phryne. 'He's not here. The suspect. Let's leave.'  
But she wouldn't hear of it. 'Come on Jack, we only just got here! He might still arrive later tonight. And besides…' she waved at a group of people standing at the far end of the dance floor. 'My friends are over there. I can hardly walk away now without saying hello.'

So she gripped him by the elbow and dragged him across the room, where she was met by a chorus of enthusiastic greetings: 'Phryne! It's been too long!' She was immediately surrounded by her friends, hugging the women and kissing the men on the cheek. Finally, she disengaged herself to introduce them to Jack.  
'Jack, these are my very good friends Will and Ida…' she indicated the couple on the left, '… and John and Isabelle. They've only just returned from Paris. Everyone, this is Jack, my… partner.'  
Suddenly, Jack was engulfed in a cloud of feathers and perfume as the two women swooped down on him to kiss him twice on each cheek. He stiffened in consternation, completely flustered, and saw Phryne stifle a smile. Then, he had his hand wrung enthusiastically by the two men. While he was greeting them, Jack could not help but overhear what the two women were saying to Phryne.  
'… little surprised to hear you say he's your partner. We didn't think… after René…'  
Phryne threw Jack a fond look. 'Jack is different,' he heard her say. 'With him, I feel…' But he couldn't hear the rest as Will and John clapped him on the shoulder and pushed a drink into his hands, engaging him in conversation. He soon noticed that they were both intelligent, well-travelled men, and really quite pleasant company. He thought he recognized some of Phryne's free spirit in them.

After a while, John excused himself, saying that this was a particularly good song. He swept his wife off to the dance floor, and they started to dance in a way that seemed very wild and altogether unnecessarily provocative to Jack. He turned away from the dance floor, only to find Phryne beside him, eyes shining bright, hips swaying slightly to the music. 'Oh, isn't the band just _marvelous_, Jack?' she asked him happily. 'Let's go dance!'  
He backed away slightly in alarm. 'Phryne… I don't dance.' He thought she knew that. Sure, he knew his waltzes, but he had no idea how to dance to jazz music, and he had no desire to make a fool of himself.  
She tried her most seductive look on him. 'Come on, Jack. It's not hard, I'll teach you.'  
'No,' he said firmly. 'I _absolutely_ don't dance.'  
At that point, he was rescued by Will, who suddenly appeared at Phryne's side. 'Ida's not up to dancing tonight, she says. Will you please do me the honor, Phryne?' She took one look at the clear expression of relief on Jack's face, before shrugging unconcernedly, taking Will's hand, and disappearing with him onto the dance floor.

Ida had found another friend, and they were chatting together merrily, leaving Jack free to scan the room again. There was still no trace of their suspect. So he stood, waiting, tapping his foot slightly, deciding that he might learn to enjoy jazz music after all. Suddenly he realized that Ida had excused herself to visit the powder room, and Ida's friend was now standing very close to him, looking up at him with visible interest. He blinked.  
'Hello,' she introduced herself, holding out her hand. 'My name is Kate. I'm a friend of Phryne's, too.' He shook her hand, noticing that she was very pretty, with short blond hair and hazel eyes. When she held his hand a just a little too long, he decided he'd better make things clear.  
'Pleasure to meet you, Kate. I'm Jack, Phryne's partner.' He put a slight emphasis on the last word, but that didn't seem to deter her at all. On the contrary: she moved even closer and put her hand on his arm.  
'I know', she said brightly, 'Ida just told me. I'm very glad she's found someone, you know.' She softly stroked his sleeve, looking up into his eyes with an openly flirtatious expression he had only ever seen on Phryne. 'And I must say: she has great taste in men.'  
He was feeling very uncomfortable by now, and tried to edge away from the young woman, but the crowd was too dense. He looked out over the dance floor, and caught Phryne's eye, signaling his distress. She merely raised her eyebrow at him, indicating that she didn't understand what was bothering him. On closer inspection, he decided that, actually, she was dancing quite a bit too close to Will, and he felt a sudden stab of jealousy that surprised him. He usually wasn't a jealous person, but that did not include idly standing by as his love wrapped her arms around another man. In an attempt both to get away from Kate, and to get Phryne away from Will, he quickly excused himself, and ventured out onto the dance floor.

'Can I cut in?' he asked politely as he reached the dancing couple. Will smiled and bowed, graciously handing Phryne over to him.  
'Jack!' she exclaimed in delighted surprise. 'Decided to come and have a good time after all?'  
'Something like that', he muttered vaguely, throwing a furtive look over his shoulder at Kate, who was now talking to Will. Phryne followed his gaze, and smiled at him mischievously. 'Well, Jack, it looks like Kate has taken a liking to you, wouldn't you say?'  
He immediately felt himself go red. 'I haven't…' he blustered, not knowing how to apologize. 'I didn't… _encourage_ her.'  
She gave a tinkling laugh and put a reassuring hand on his arm. 'Don't worry, darling, that's not what I meant. I'm not jealous, she knows you're with me. She just doesn't think there's anything wrong with showing you that she thinks you're an attractive man.'  
He tried to grasp the notion. 'But… to what purpose?'  
She leaned in very close to him, and whispered tantalizingly into his ear: 'Well… I'm quite sure she could be persuaded to come home with us.'  
He pulled back, alarmed. 'I don't… we can't… no, we've discussed this', he stammered. His head was reeling. He felt that he was experiencing something of a culture shock, suddenly encountering so many people whose view of the world and its morals corresponded to Phryne's instead of his own, which he had always held to be the generally accepted one.  
Phryne glanced at Kate over her shoulder. 'She's very pretty, you know', she stated casually.  
Jack looked at the blond girl. It was true, she _was_ very pretty. And young, and bright, and alluring, and _so very much not Phryne_. He turned back to tell her that, only to see that she was laughing, and he realized that she had been teasing him, and had known his answer in advance. He smiled down at her tenderly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. 'You know I only want you', he whispered huskily.  
She surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him full on the lips.  
He was a little flustered when she let go of him, looking around furtively to see if anyone had noticed, then he realized that all around them there were couples in various romantic embraces, and nobody cared. He just couldn't wrap his head around how strange things suddenly were. It was like he had stepped into a different world.

His attention was drawn back to Phryne when she suddenly moved to stand very close to him, the front of their bodies touching almost full-length.  
'Time to dance, Inspector', she reminded him. 'We can't just stand here.' She put her hand on his shoulder, placed one of his hands on her hip, and started to move to the music. He felt extraordinarily out of place, unable to let go and relax the way the other dancers did. However, when Phryne turned and leaned back against him, draping one arm backwards around his neck, he forgot his embarrassment for a moment to marvel at the way her supple body moved to the music. He couldn't resist running his hands down her sides, over her hips, and when she pressed her hips to him, he felt a stab of excitement that turned his mind to other matters entirely. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close so he could whisper in her ear. 'Let me take you home.'  
She turned her head to look at him, saw the promise in his eyes, and started to agree. 'Yes, I think that might be a good…' she stopped suddenly, staring at a point a little beyond him. 'Jack,' she whispered urgently. 'That's him, that's our suspect.'  
And indeed, there he was, just entering the club: a slick gentleman with oily dark hair and a garishly striped suit. Jack sighed and released Phryne, inwardly cursing the man's bad timing. Now there was nothing for it but to wait and see, and take note of what he did and whom he socialized with. Together, they moved back through the crowd to Phryne's group of friends, where they would have a good overview of the room. Though they joined in the conversation, Jack and Phryne took turns to keep an eye on their suspect. In the meantime, Will and John kept pressing drinks into Jack's hand, throwing back their own drinks with such ease that he had a hard time trying to keep up. Though he was usually quite capable of holding his liquor, he gradually felt himself become pleasantly tipsy. Phryne kept throwing amused glances his way, and he noticed that she wasn't drinking much herself.

* * *

Several hours and many drinks later, their suspect left without doing anything particularly noteworthy. Well, Phryne reflected, at least they now knew who some of his associates were, so the evening hadn't been a complete waste of time. She turned and contemplated the task that now lay before her: getting Jack home. He was trying not to show it, but she knew him too well not to see that he was drunker than he wanted to be. They said goodbye to their friends, promising to meet them again soon, and left the club for the quiet and the cooler air outside. When they reached the car, Jack leaned against it slightly to steady himself, and she observed him with an amused smile. 'Well, looks like I'll be driving', she said lightly as she fished the car keys out of his pocket. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. 'Yes, I think that would be best. Those friends of yours… they can drink.'

One very brisk car ride later, though, Jack seemed to have sobered up a little, no doubt thanks to the fresh air, and not due to shock brought on by her driving skills. He merely seemed very relaxed now. When they walked up to the front door, he put his arm around her waist and admitted: 'Actually, I almost had a good time tonight.'  
She snorted. 'Of course you did, your brain is practically marinated in alcohol.'  
'Not the point', he replied with as much dignity as he could muster. 'Your friends are nice.'  
That surprised her, but she was pleased nonetheless. I'll make a bohemian of him yet, she amused herself by thinking, though she knew full well that his newfound carefree attitude would disappear together with the effects of the alcohol.  
When they reached the front door and she felt around in her purse for the key, he wrapped both arms around her and started nuzzling her neck. She felt his mood change, and couldn't help but feel her own body respond. She smiled, deciding that she quite liked him when he was a little drunk. But when he cupped a breast through the fabric of her dress, she gasped in surprise, and laughingly pushed his hand away.  
'Jack! I'll never find the key if you distract me like that,' she smiled.  
'Who cares about keys', he rumbled, as he turned her around and pushed her against the door to kiss her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, her desire for him washing over her. But when he started kissing her throat, she realized with a jolt of surprise that _she _would have to be the voice of reason tonight, if she wanted to avoid a scandal in the neighborhood.  
So she stroked his hair and whispered: 'Well, the sooner I find the key, the sooner we'll be _inside._'  
There was no arguing with her logic, so he reluctantly stepped back and allowed her to open the door.

It was dark and quiet in the house: the household had long gone to bed. Jack took one look at the challenge the stairs posed, and seemed to decide that the prospect of climbing them was far too daunting at the moment. Instead, he took Phryne by the hand and pulled her into the parlor, closing the door behind them. It was completely dark inside – Phryne felt around for the light switch, but before she was able to locate it, two strong arms encircled her from behind, and a deep voice whispered in her ear: 'Don't bother with the lights.' He kissed her neck and shoulder, and as she leaned back against him, she decided he was right: there were more important things to attend to. When she turned and kissed him, he lifted her off the floor in his enthusiasm.

Wrapped around each other, they managed to get to the love seat. Not being able to see definitely added to the fun, Phryne decided. Though she usually liked the lights on so she could admire and be admired, the darkness presented something of a challenge, and she loved to be challenged. Their hands wandered blindly, searching for knots to undo, buttons to open, garments to discard. Phryne felt Jack's body pressed close to hers, until suddenly… he was gone.  
'Jack?'  
She heard a bump and a muttered curse coming from the direction of the floor.  
'Are you alright?' she asked, trying hard not to laugh. 'What happened?'  
'I fell off', he stated drily. 'Damn slippery furniture of yours.'  
She couldn't help but laugh now. She heard him try to get up. 'No, wait, there's not enough room anyway. I'll join you down there.' She threw some pillows down in the direction of his voice, and judging by his indignant exclamations, they were right on target. She slipped off the love seat to the floor with a smile.  
Feeling around, her hands encountered only velvet and silk.  
'Where are you?' she asked, settling into the nest of pillows. It really was pitch black in the parlor, and she was a little disoriented for a moment. Then, she felt his fingers find her arm, and she lay still as he carefully trailed them upwards over her shoulder, until he could place his hand on her cheek.  
'There you are', he whispered softly.  
She smiled a smile he couldn't see. 'Yes, here I am.'  
Ever so gently, he let his fingers explore her face, until he found her lips. She moved closer to him as he kissed her.

It was a new way of experiencing things, with new sensations and delights. This was a new world of carefully touching, feeling their way, letting their hands and lips discover the things they couldn't see. Jack was amazed at how well they had come to know each other's bodies in the last few months; his hands seemed to find their way effortlessly over her smooth skin. He was very much aware of every sound she made that could indicate delight or displeasure, aware of the smell of her perfume, and especially aware of how he was touching her, using his fingers thoughtfully, thoroughly, so she was soon gasping in his arms. Not being able to look into each other's eyes, they sought to make contact in other ways, caressing, kissing, touching. When she opened herself to him, her hand found his cheek, and he held her gently as her sighs filled the darkness around them.

* * *

Light filtered dimly through the heavy curtains. Jack awoke to a dull pounding in his head that was somewhat mitigated by the feeling of being enveloped in extraordinary warmth and softness. He pulled Phryne a little closer and prepared to sink back into blissful oblivion, but slowly came to the realization that something felt… off. He carefully opened one eye and frowned.  
'Umm… Phryne?' he whispered uncertainly.  
'Mmm?'  
'Why are we lying in a pile of pillows on your parlor floor?'  
At that, she turned languidly so they were face to face, then opened her eyes with a sleepy but satisfied smile. 'Don't you remember last night?'  
Not as well as I'd like to, he thought. He suddenly remembered a lot of whiskey, and felt himself redden. 'Oh God, what did I do?'  
She snuggled close to his chest, definitely amused. 'Nothing, darling. You were perfectly charming.'  
He winced. 'How drunk was I?'  
She smiled teasingly. 'Drunk enough not to be able to climb the stairs, but not so drunk that you were unable to do… other things.'  
Yes, that definitely brought back some memories. For some reason, his brain refused to provide visual information, but his tactile memory seemed more accommodating: he suddenly remembered kisses and caresses, and he allowed himself to sink back into the pillows, feeling pleased with himself. He closed his eyes; maybe a few more hours of sleep would clear the last of the fog in his head.  
'Jack?'  
'Mmm?'  
'It's morning.'  
'Great. Then there's still plenty of time to sleep until noon.'  
She chuckled softly. 'That's not my point.'  
'Then what is your point?'  
'Maybe we should get up.'  
He opened one eye to look at her in amazement. 'I never thought I'd hear you say _that_, Miss Fisher.'  
She continued casually. 'Well, we can stay here, of course, if you don't mind traumatizing Dot when she walks in here in a moment to open the curtains.'  
That woke him up properly: he raised his eyebrows in alarm and quickly pushed himself off the pillows. 'Now you mention it, getting up seems like an excellent idea.'  
She grinned up at him. 'I thought it might. But we can always move up to the bedroom if you'd like some more sleep.'  
'Sounds like a good plan', he said absentmindedly, gathering up his clothes and throwing pillows back into their respective chairs. They pulled on enough clothes to appear at least halfway decent should they encounter someone in the hallway, but everyone still seemed to be sleeping.  
When they reached the safety of the bedroom, they both tumbled into bed. The silk sheets were cool to the touch, and Phryne wriggled close to Jack, her back pressed into the warmth of his body. He encircled her in his arms.  
'_Now_ you can sleep until noon', she said, as she nestled a little closer.  
But Jack suddenly realized that he was no longer very interested in sleeping. He only had to move his hand slightly to softly stroke her breast. When he felt her nipple harden and heard her breath catch, he smiled to himself.  
'You know, Miss Fisher', he whispered softly in her ear. 'I'm sure I can think of many other things we could do until noon.'  
'Oh really, Inspector?' she purred, and turned with a sensuous smile to wrap her arms around him. 'Enlighten me.'


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's note: at the request of at least three reviewers :)_

_Enjoy, and please review!_

* * *

So this was how he was going to die.

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson felt himself go pale, eyes wide with terror as he held on for dear life. He felt a sudden stab of panic. 'Phryne!' he called out through gritted teeth, but the noise and the rushing of the wind drowned out his voice. He swallowed with difficulty, then tried again.  
'Phryne!'  
No reaction. He gathered all his strength.  
'Miss Fisher!' he bellowed. '_Slow down_!'

Phryne turned her head, mildly surprised, to look at Jack, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the Hispano with one hand on his hat, the other tightly gripping the door of the car. He seemed a bit distressed. 'What's the matter?' she asked him, slightly concerned.  
'Slow down!' he said again, not taking his eyes off the road.  
She laughed. 'But this is the perfect road, Jack! It's straight, it's flat, and it runs through the middle of nowhere. Ideal circumstances!'  
'Your ideal circumstances are going to get us killed!' he growled at her. Having only ever driven with her through Melbourne (and that was bad enough), Jack had received a nasty shock five minutes earlier when they had turned onto the intercity road and Phryne had suddenly stepped on the gas, causing the car to accelerate at an alarming rate. Soon, Jack was feeling slightly sick. He had had no idea that a car could go this fast. As he watched the scenery flash by in a brown-and-green blur, all he could think about was what would happen if the car hit a bump in the road, or malfunctioned, or… He was reminded very vividly of the case of the female racecar driver, car smashed to bits against a tree.

Phryne, however, seemed perfectly unconcerned. She threw her head back, and laughed, clearly enjoying herself.  
'Isn't this _thrilling_, Jack! Doesn't it make you feel alive?'  
'Yes, and I'd very much like to stay that way!' he shouted, steeling himself. This was not going to be pleasant, but he felt he had no choice. 'Stop the car!'  
She turned her head to look at him in disbelief. 'What?'  
'Eyes on the road!' he groaned. 'Phryne, stop the car.'  
'Why?'  
'Because I'm not tired of living yet. I'm taking over.'  
'But Jack!' she exclaimed indignantly.  
'Miss Fisher', he said, using his sternest voice and praying silently that that would work, 'if you don't stop the car _right now_, I will arrest you for irresponsible driving!'  
She looked at him, amused. 'You'll arrest me?'  
'Yes', he said, trying to sound convincing.  
She looked at him silently for a moment, before asking, in a much gentler voice: 'You're really scared, aren't you?'  
'That's completely beside the point', he said, with as much dignity as he could muster, given the circumstances. 'You are breaking the law.'  
She was quiet again, looking ahead pensively, and he feared that she would ignore him as usual. Then, to his immense relief, she released the accelerator and the car slowed down until she could safely steer it off the road to park it there.  
'Fine', she said huffily. 'But don't think you've intimidated me into anything. I'm only doing this for you.'  
Whatever the reason, he thought, he was simply grateful that it had worked. He got out of the car the moment they were at a standstill, and felt a strong urge to kiss the solid ground beneath his feet. Resisting the impulse, he walked around the car to open her door for her. She hesitated a moment longer before getting out.  
'I'm doing this under protest', she warned him.  
'Noted', he said drily as handed her out of the car.  
'And don't think I'll just let this pass. You can't just take over a woman's car, Inspector. There are consequences.'  
'Oh really?' he asked, amused. 'Like what?'  
'Well…' she thought for a moment, before raising a supercilious eyebrow. 'Maybe you should sleep in the guest room tonight.'  
His face broke into a grin. 'Don't kid yourself, Miss Fisher. We both know you can't keep your hands off me.'  
That made her laugh delightedly. 'Only too true, Inspector', she smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. Without further protest, she walked around the car to the passenger's seat. Her sudden surrender made him wonder if she didn't have some other kind of mischief in mind. He probably should keep an eye on her.

Half an hour later, Jack felt calm and composed again, safely behind the wheel of the Hispano, driving along at exactly the speed limit. Phryne seemed cheerful enough sitting beside him, talking lightly about the color of the clouds and the possibility that it might rain later, so after a while he let his guard down and relaxed. As they drove on, Phryne fell silent, and Jack's thoughts soon drifted to the case they were working on, and the suspect they were driving up to see. He hoped it wouldn't be too hard to find the man, and that he would be cooperative when they did. After all, he was their best lead. He didn't quite know where to look if it turned out that… His train of thought was brusquely interrupted when he felt a hand on his arm, moving upwards over his shoulder to softly stroke the back of his neck.  
'What are you doing?' he asked, firmly keeping his eyes on the road.  
She shrugged innocently. 'I just… thought you might need to relax a little.' She was now running her other hand over his chest.  
'I'm driving, Miss Fisher. Don't distract me.'  
'But I'm bored', she sighed theatrically. 'It's very tedious just sitting here.'  
He pushed her hand away, which prompted her to tease: 'Shouldn't you keep both hands on the wheel, Inspector?'  
Meanwhile, her fingers were still delicately stroking the back of his neck, sending delicious shivers down his spine. He shook himself mentally: he should not be enjoying this.  
'Keep your hands to yourself, Miss Fisher', he grumbled warningly.  
She grinned. 'But you just said it yourself, Inspector: I simply can't keep my hands off you.'  
He raised an eyebrow in a resigned kind of way. So that's what this was: he was getting his comeuppance for taking over the wheel, and she was using the best weapons in her possession to tease him to distraction, seeing how long he would hold. This was going to be tough. He groaned inwardly as her hand landed lightly on his knee, feeling that it was not a fair fight. Nevertheless, he was determined that he would not allow himself to be distracted, he was not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose his composure. As her hand slowly started moving along his thigh, he mentally steeled himself.

Phryne smiled inwardly, observing her Inspector closely out of the corner of her eye. This was her favorite game to play. She could clearly see that he was getting ready for a battle of wills, and she was delighted. She moved slowly now, patiently, like a cat stalking its prey. If she was too bold now, he would get annoyed and that would ruin the game. So she had to keep him carefully balanced on that thin line between amusement and exasperation that was so typically Jack. Luckily, she was something of an expert in keeping him both amused and exasperated. Her fingers moved deftly, lightly, tracing the line of his jaw, then moving down to run just underneath the edge of his collar. She knew him so well. The way the corner of his mouth turned down ever so slightly told her that he liked what she was doing. She moved her other hand a little higher on his thigh, but the merest trace of a frown made her stop. Too soon.

She leaned in slightly, knowing all too well the effect her physical nearness had on him. Yes: she saw his body shift subtly, and read both discomfort and longing there. She smiled. Oh, how she loved this game. How she loved the long, careful process of drawing him out by teasing him, softly cajoling, sweetly seducing, until suddenly he would crack, and the gruff exterior of the Detective Inspector would melt away and her Jack would emerge, laughing and playful, tender and loving. It was a transformation that surprised and delighted her every time again. But it took time. Especially in a situation like this, when he was determined to resist. But she knew that would only make her reward all the sweeter when she finally succeeded. She leaned in closer to kiss, ever so carefully, a spot underneath his ear, and she smiled when she heard him sigh. Almost.

Jack had a hard time keeping his thoughts on the road. He could tell himself all he wanted that he was immune to her charms, but his body told a different story. He had to admire her subtlety this time: it was exactly because she held back that he wanted more. In fact, he was starting to suspect that she could read him like a book. He closed his eyes for just a second to enjoy the feeling of her hand running over his chest and stomach. She was too close; the smell of her perfume was clouding his mind, and the soft touch of her fingers awoke an aching hunger in him. He wanted her. He tried to resist just a moment longer, but when she bit his earlobe and he nearly crashed the car, he had to admit defeat. He braked sharply, steering the car off the road to park under a small clump of trees. The moment they stood still, he looked at her sideways, noting the glint in her eye.  
'Phryne', he said, shaking his head. 'You'll be the death of me.' But he pulled her closer and kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around him to kiss him back enthusiastically.

The fact that he could hold her for a while, feel her warmth and taste her lips, had him momentarily satisfied. The game was over, he felt: she had won (had he expected anything else?) and he was ready to continue their journey. He threw a concerned look at the sky: dark clouds were gathering above them, and he decided that they better move on. It was only when she leaned in for another kiss and ran her hand down his stomach, over the buckle of his belt, that it dawned on him that she might have other plans.  
He pulled back apprehensively. 'Umm… what do you think you're doing?'  
The question answered itself when she moved her hand further down and started stroking him through the fabric of his pants. He tensed, and gasped as a stab of excitement shot through him. But when she started to undo his belt, he gathered all his willpower and stopped her hand.  
'Public road, Miss Fisher', he reminded her, voice a little husky.  
'_Deserted_ road, Inspector', she corrected him, eyes sparkling. She leaned in against his chest, lips tantalizingly close to his, and he almost gave in when suddenly, he saw it. From the opposite direction, a car was approaching them. It was still far away, but it was quickly coming nearer. He was instantly alert again, grabbing Phryne by the shoulders and firmly pushing her back into her own seat. She looked confused for a moment, then spotted the car and uttered an 'oh!' of understanding. They tried to act normal, waiting for the car to pass them, only… it didn't. When it was almost level with them, they saw it slow down and stop. When a man in uniform got out of the vehicle, Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. That was just his luck. Phryne broke into a fit of suppressed laughter.  
'Compose yourself, Miss Fisher', Jack rumbled sternly from the side of his mouth. 'And let me handle this, please.'

The policeman reached their car and glanced over the two of them with a wary eye. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair that was graying at the temples and a belly that was straining the buttons of his uniform. Unfortunately, he did not look like he had much of a sense of humor.  
'Good afternoon', he greeted them in a professionally neutral tone. 'Having car trouble? Not a great time; looks like there's a storm coming.'  
'Good afternoon Sergeant', Phryne replied, flashing the man a dazzling smile that clearly deepened his suspicions. Jack threw her a warning look before turning to the man with his best deadpan expression.  
'No, Sergeant, no car trouble. We were merely… discussing directions.' He immediately realized how ridiculous that explanation was when he remembered that there was nothing but a long, straight stretch of road both in front and behind them, and he saw Phryne cover her mouth with her hand and shake with silent laughter. The police officer frowned up and down the road and seemed to come to the same conclusion. He looked back at them, eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
'You do realize this is a public road, sir?'  
'I'm perfectly aware of the fact, thank you, Sergeant', Jack replied firmly. 'We'll be on our way shortly.'  
The man did not seem inclined to trust them, and assumed a warning tone. 'If there's any trouble here…'  
At that point, Jack flashed his police badge, looking the man straight in the face and saying in his most authoritative manner: 'I'm sure I'll be able to handle it.'  
That took the sergeant by surprise, and he backed off immediately.  
'Meaning no offense, sir. Have a safe journey, sir.' He tipped his cap to Phryne and retreated back to his own car. A moment later, he was gone.

'Well handled, Jack', Phryne said admiringly, turning to watch the police car drive off. Jack couldn't help but smile a little.  
'Oh, well', he replied. 'After all, we hadn't done anything wrong.'  
'Yet', Phryne finished his sentence, that mischievous glint back in her eye as she leaned over to kiss his neck, hands snaking back to places they weren't supposed to be.  
He pushed her away in disbelief. 'Seriously, Miss Fisher? We were almost caught by a policeman!'  
She looked up at him in amusement. 'Which makes it highly unlikely that _another_ policeman will pass by here in the next half hour or so.'  
'But…' he started to protest, but was silenced by a great rumble coming from the clouds above them. They looked at each other in alarm.  
'Quick, Jack!' Phryne called, hurriedly getting out of the car. 'Help me get the hood up.'  
Together they struggled with the hood of the car, folding it open to form a roof as the first fat drops of rain fell from the sky. They got back into the car just in time, panting slightly as they watched how the heavens opened and the rain suddenly poured down in a solid sheet.  
'That was close', Phryne said. 'Almost ruined my upholstery.'

They sat together silently for a moment, watching the rain reduce visibility to less than five feet.  
'Better stay here for a while', Jack noted. 'We can't drive in this weather.'  
He leaned over to pull Phryne close and rumbled: 'However shall we pass the time, Miss Fisher?'  
She looked at him in surprised delight. 'Really Jack? Even with the public road and everything?'  
'No one in their right mind will be driving through this rain. Better take advantage of the situation.'  
'I couldn't agree with you more', she smiled, kissing him.  
The sense of sitting there together in the small, dry cocoon of the car while the rain pounded on the roof created an atmosphere of intimacy that was increased when the windows started fogging up from their body heat. The curtain of water that surrounded them made them feel completely isolated from the rest of the world. He kissed her softly, longingly, then got annoyed that he was hindered by the distance between their two seats. He glanced over his shoulder.  
'Back seat?' he suggested uncertainly.  
She shook her head. 'There's not enough room, we'll never be comfortable.'  
Instead, she pushed him back into his seat and kissed him, hands running down his body to undo his belt and pants buttons. He groaned slightly when she drew him out and softly stroked him, but when she bent over, he suddenly realized what she was about to do, and his body tensed. She stopped, looked up at him questioningly. He very rarely allowed her to do this, still not entirely comfortable with the concept, still feeling that it was, just a little, wrong. He usually stopped her at this point. Today, a short but fierce battle raged in his mind as he looked into her eyes. She was waiting patiently for him to decide, but when she softly bit her lip, he couldn't resist. He closed his eyes and leaned back with a sigh.

When her warm mouth closed around him, he gasped and gripped the wheel of the car convulsively. Once he allowed himself to surrender, the pleasure was absolute, and his world suddenly became very small as she did things he couldn't even begin to imagine, so unspeakably delicious, and everything else was firmly driven from his mind. He kept his eyes closed, letting the sensations wash over him. Soon, too soon, he felt the tension build, and knew that he would not be able to control it much longer. He softly touched her hair as he whispered her name. She looked up, understood, and did not insist. Instead, she lifted her skirt and, elegant even in such cramped quarters, she fluently managed to maneuver herself onto his lap, straddling him. There wasn't much room, and they both jumped when she accidentally pushed against the horn and it honked loudly. They both laughed, tension broken, and Jack hugged her close to kiss her, a smile on his lips. They were wedged closely together, but neither of them minded. Her mouth still on his, she lifted her hips slightly, then sank down on him with a moan in the back of her throat. He gripped her hips tightly to help her move, and they slowly rocked together in the close, steamy atmosphere of the car, with the rain still rushing all around them, drowning out the outside world.

* * *

The next thing he was aware of, was that the sound of the rain had stopped. He looked around a little dazedly. Yes, it was still drizzling slightly, but it would be possible to drive again. Other cars would soon be on the road. He gently nudged Phryne, who was slumped against his chest, still a little out of breath.  
'Time to move,' he said softly.  
'No, I don't think so', she replied, nestling her head on his shoulder. 'You're nice and warm.'  
He smiled. 'Yes, but it's stopped raining. This is a public road again.'  
She sighed and lifted her head to kiss him one last time, then disengaged herself and clambered back over to her own seat. She smoothed her skirt and patted her hair, then glanced over at Jack with a sweet look.  
'You look a little tired, darling. Maybe you would like me to drive the rest of the way?'  
He snorted. 'Not a chance, Miss Fisher.'  
'Fine', she smiled lazily, curling up like a cat in her seat, a look of utter contentment on her face.  
As he started the car and carefully maneuvered it back onto the wet road, she settled her head on his shoulder and sighed softly. After a while, the soft hum of the engine and the safe feeling of Jack next to her lulled her to sleep. Jack drove along silently, careful not to move and wake her. Every once in a while, he turned his head slightly to kiss the top of her head. A warm glow of happiness had settled in his chest, and a smile played on his lips. She really isn't so bad, he thought tenderly. You just have to know how to handle her. He was, of course, perfectly aware that _she_ was handling _him_ much better than the other way round, but he was prepared to overlook that fact. After all, she was worth the trouble.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's note:_ Just a reminder that I'm still taking Jack's 1920's morals into account. He may have learnt a lot from Miss Fisher by now, but she might be able to shock him yet...

To the guest reviewer who requested an undercover/roleplay story: I would _love _to write one, but I can't immediately come up with a suitable situation. Feel free to leave a comment if you have an idea or a preference :)

As always, **reviews** are so much appreciated! Honestly. They make my day :)  
Enjoy!

* * *

'Remind me again – why are we in a closet?'  
'Because we're observing…'  
'I know _that_. But why aren't we doing it from a more spacious location?'  
'We want to be inconspicuous.'  
'Because…?'  
'Honestly Jack, you're the policeman, you should know why. First of all, if we were to wait, say, in the middle of the living room, the thief would just run the moment he saw us and we might not get a good look at his face. Secondly, did you bring a gun?'  
'Of course not, this is not the kind of situation for which I would request permission to bring a gun.'  
'Well, our thief might have one, so we need to be careful he doesn't see us. Remember, we're just here to ascertain the identity of the thief, so we can apprehend him later.'  
'Your _hypothetical_ thief.'  
She tried to turn to give him an annoyed look, which was difficult, since they were wedged so tightly together.  
'I know you think Jocelyn is a silly woman, but she's not crazy. If she says things go missing, I believe her.'  
Jack sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall as he tried to remember how exactly they had ended up in the coat closet in the house of one of Miss Fisher's friends in the middle of the night.

* * *

It had started two days ago, when Phryne suddenly appeared in his office wearing an alarmingly familiar expression of determination.  
'Jack, I need your help.'  
He frowned at her suspiciously. It wasn't the request in itself that made him uneasy, but rather her tone, which told him clear as day that she knew he would need convincing before he would offer said help.  
'Why?' he asked cautiously.  
'A dear friend of mine, Jocelyn Wilders, has been to see me today. She told me that, over the course of the last few weeks, several small but valuable items have gone missing from her home: jewelry, pieces of silverware, etcetera. She said she didn't notice at first, thinking she'd just mislaid them, but after a while she began to see a pattern. Every time she and her husband left the house in the evening to go to the opera or a dinner party, something else would disappear.'  
'So? One of the servants probably uses those evenings to steal things. Why don't they simply look through their rooms to see who the culprit is?'  
'Well, the thing is, they don't have any live-in staff. And yet there's never been any sign the house has been broken into, so the thief must have a key. Jocelyn suspects it's someone on the staff who managed to make a copy of the key, but she can't figure out who.'  
'You're saying 'Jocelyn suspects'. What about her husband?'  
Phryne looked a little uncomfortable now. 'Well… he doesn't really believe there have been any break-ins. He insists that Jocelyn is imagining everything, saying that she's always losing things.'  
Jack raised an eyebrow.  
'So why do you believe her?'  
'Because she's my friend, and her husband is an idiot. The thing is, they are going out again on Saturday night and she wondered if…'  
'Oh no.'  
'Well, yes, if we could keep an eye on things at her house while they're gone. I went and checked: there's a small cloak room next to the entrance hall that we could use. There are slats in the door, so we'd be able to see the thief when he comes in, without having to put ourselves in danger in case he's armed. Then we can arrest him in the morning.'  
'If he exists. Otherwise I'll simply have spent a very tedious Saturday evening stuck in a cloak room.'  
She smiled at him and moved closer. 'Well Inspector, even being stuck in a cloak room can be interesting in the right company.'  
He turned down the corners of his mouth, and she knew he'd come with her.

* * *

'Oh no, I don't think so, Miss Fisher.'  
'Come on Jack, it's not that bad.'  
They were at Jocelyn's house, the Wilders having departed ten minutes earlier, and Phryne was holding open the door to her proposed hideout.  
'Excuse me, but your description of the location was wildly exaggerated. This isn't a cloak room, this is a closet.'  
She rolled her eyes. 'Must you nitpick?'  
'I'm not spending an entire evening in a closet! There's hardly room for the both of us.'  
'Nonsense Jack, we'll fit in just fine.'  
Ignoring his continued protest, she steered him in with a firm hand, then squeezed herself in afterwards, closing the door. She had to admit that it was fairly tight, but it wasn't completely uncomfortable. She could feel Jack fuming behind her though.  
'We won't be in here long', she tried to soothe him. 'It's already dark out, and our thief will want to get in as soon as possible, while the Wilders are still out.'  
'_Hypothetical_ thief', he grumbled.  
'Fine', she said, then leaned back slightly and turned her head to look at him persuasively. 'If there's no thief, I'll make it up to you later.' He grumbled something, but she could almost feel him smile, and she knew he was interested. She flashed him a saucy look. '… that is, if you promise to do the same if it turns out I'm right after all.'  
He raised an eyebrow. 'Agreed, Miss Fisher. If a thief walks through that door in a moment, I promise I will profusely apologize for my skepticism in any way you see fit.'  
With a satisfied grin, she turned back to watch the front door.

Moonlight was shining brightly through the windows next to the front door, illuminating the entrance hall. Thanks to the slats in the door, the closet was not completely dark, and after a while their eyes adjusted enough to be able to see each other. Jack gradually felt his bad mood disappear as he resigned himself to the situation. This was just another Miss Fisher adventure, he supposed. He suddenly noticed how close she was, and he imagined the things they could have been doing if they had not been standing in someone else's closet. Suddenly, he smiled slyly as an idea occurred to him. The situation offered distinct possibilities… Because how often had she teased him, how often had she distracted and seduced him in inappropriate situations… he wondered if he would be able to play the same game. This was the perfect opportunity to try, since she would not be able to turn around and manipulate him like she usually did.

He sighed casually. 'Well, Miss Fisher, I hope our thief turns up soon. Think of what we could be doing with our evening.'  
To his delight, she took the bait. Smiling, she leaned back into him. 'Like what, Inspector?'  
'Well…' his voice was deep and slow. 'I imagine we would be in bed by now. That's a tantalizing thought…'  
Slowly, he brought his mouth close to her ear and rumbled softly in his deepest voice: 'In fact… I wish I could take you right now.'  
He saw with satisfaction that she shivered slightly and leaned in closer, captivated. He didn't touch her, using only his voice, in a tone that was so sensual, she soon felt her body react.  
'I want to undress you, slowly', he murmured. 'Take off every layer of clothes until you lie naked in my arms and I can have my way with you.'  
She sighed longingly, and he smiled.  
'I want to kiss you,' he whispered. 'The softness of your throat…' Ever so lightly, he ran his thumb along the side of her neck, and she shivered.  
'I want to touch you.' His mouth still close to her ear, he allowed his hand to wander downwards, moving between her breasts. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch.  
'I want to make you sigh. I know exactly what you like. I want to hear you gasp, feel you tremble when I touch you.' Her breathing had changed, and he could not resist the temptation to brush a nipple through the fabric of her blouse, drawing a small sound from her lips. He slowly moved his hand downwards over her stomach as he continued.  
'I want to kiss the soft inside of your thighs.' He leaned even closer now, his lips almost touching her ear. 'I want to taste you, and hear you moan.'  
His hand moved between her legs, but lightly, only for a moment. She pressed her back to him, and he felt a stab of arousal that he nevertheless quickly controlled.  
'Jack,' she whispered, 'Jack, I want you.'  
He smiled in satisfaction as he pulled back his hand. 'Well,' he teased her,' if _only_ we weren't stuck in this closet… But it looks like you'll just have to wait, Miss Fisher.'  
'Hmm... I'm not very good at that', she said, looking mischievously at him over her shoulder. A moment later, she had allowed her body to relax, leaning against his. 'Put your arms around me', she whispered.  
He did so, wondering what she was planning to do, then his eyes widened in surprise as he saw her slip her right hand past the waistband of her pants. In the soft moonlight, he could only see the slightest movements beneath the fabric, but soon she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder with a sigh. He was too stunned to react, merely watching as she moved her body slightly against his, soft sounds coming from the back of her throat. When her legs started to tremble, he instinctively held her tighter, and her left hand grasped his arm as her breathing quickened. A moment later, she gasped, and he felt her body spasm slightly, before she relaxed again, leaning heavily against him. Then, she withdrew her hand, gave a satisfied sigh and smilingly turned her head to kiss Jack on the cheek.

He was speechless for several more moments before he found his voice again.  
'_What_ did you just do?' he asked incredulously.  
She looked at him, uncomprehending. 'Wasn't that… fairly obvious?'  
'Did you just…?'  
'Well, yes.'  
'But…'  
'What's the matter?'  
'It's just… I wasn't involved at all.'  
'Do you need to be?'  
He looked at her in disbelief. 'Are you telling me that I _don't_ need to be?'  
She frowned slightly, confused. 'Darling, you know how you can make my body react with your hands. So why wouldn't I be able to do the same?'  
He stared straight ahead into the darkness for a moment, stunned into silence. True, until a few months ago, he hadn't even known that women could enjoy sex just as much as men. Phryne had taught him that, and much more, but he had always _assumed_, had never questioned the fact that a partner was an essential part of the experience. In fact, he had always felt that it was his prerogative to give her sensual pleasure. And now here was Phryne, telling him – no, _showing_ him – that she could do just as well on her own. His mind was staggering. It didn't seem fair. He suddenly felt very … inconsequential.

His train of thought was interrupted when Phryne stiffened.  
'Listen', she whispered, and he heard it too: someone was turning a key in the lock of the front door. They stood immobilized, careful not to make a sound, as the door opened slowly and a dark figure entered the hallway. As he turned to close the door behind him, the moonlight fell full on his face for a moment, before he turned and crossed the hall to climb the stairs.  
When he was out of sight, Phryne turned to Jack. 'That's the gardener', she whispered. 'Do you want to go and arrest him?'  
He shook his head. 'He's wearing a knife at his belt. Better let him go tonight, we know who he is now. We'll pick him up tomorrow. He'll probably have the stolen goods at his house.'  
Only a few moments later, the gardener reappeared at the top of the stairs, putting something small into his pocket. He quietly descended the stairs, crossed the hall, and went out through the door again, carefully locking it behind him. The entire operation had taken under five minutes.  
'Smooth', Jack remarked drily. 'Now let's finally get out of this damn closet and go home.'  
Phryne opened the door and stepped out into the moonlit hallway. One look at Jack's face told her this was not the time to gloat about being right about the thief. He was clearly still struggling with something.  
'Yes, let's go home,' she said. 'I think we need to talk.'

* * *

When they were home and in bed together, Phryne reached up and ran a finger over the crease in Jack's brow.  
'What's worrying you so much?'  
He sighed and looked at her, struggling to find the words.  
'What you did…'  
'Well, let's talk about it. It's a perfectly natural thing to do, you know. I'm not embarrassed.'  
He hesitated. 'Why would you do something like that?'  
She shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned. 'You were teasing me. I don't like waiting.'  
'I get the feeling you've done this before?'  
'Of course!'  
'Why?'  
She smiled. 'Well, you're not always here when I feel like it, are you?'  
'You mean you do this often?'  
She shrugged. 'Sometimes. It really depends on my mood.'  
A thought suddenly occurred to him. 'Can _all _women do this?'  
She laughed at that. 'Well it's not just something particular to me, darling! Yes, in theory all women can do it. But deplorably few of them do.'  
'Why?'  
'Because they simply don't know how. Most of them don't even know that it's possible at all to achieve pleasure on their own, just like you didn't know until a few hours ago.'  
'So how is it that you know?'  
'Mac', she answered simply. 'Remember how I told you that we once spent a night together?'  
'Vividly', he mumbled.  
'Well, she told me that women could experience sensual pleasure without a man, or without a partner at all. She showed me how. I must say, it was quite a revelation, and one I am still grateful for.'  
'And why don't all women know this?'  
'Because most of them don't have anyone to tell them. And, frankly, most women don't even _want _to know.' She smiled. 'I once tried to broach the subject with Dot, poor thing. She practically covered her ears and begged me not to continue. You see, most women still feel that it is sinful, or at least 'not proper' to touch yourself in that way.'  
Jack privately agreed for a moment. Women should not… he stopped himself there and shook himself mentally. He was still dreadfully conservative at times. Phryne was right, why should they take into account what other people thought was proper? He tried to look at the whole picture, objectively, trying not to be guided by the prejudices of society. Why should a woman not enjoy her body? It was not fair of him to feel that women should be dependent on men for their pleasure. But there was one thing that still rankled with him…  
'Phryne…' he hesitated. 'But then… what do you need me for?'  
She laughed and kissed him. 'Oh darling, it's not the same! There's no reason I can't indulge in a little sensual pleasure when I feel like it and you're not here, but it's so much more with you. You're tender, and warm, and exciting. You kiss me, and hold me, and fulfill me in a way I can't do by myself.' There was a twinkle in her eyes. 'Let me put it this way: it's like having a snack, which can be delicious, but nothing compared to a full three-course meal.'  
He smiled, but wasn't entirely reassured yet. He still felt a little uneasy about the concept. He frowned, and looked at her speculatively.  
'Show me', he said suddenly.  
'What?'  
'Show me', he repeated seriously. 'Please.'  
'You want me to…?'  
'Yes.'  
'Why?'  
'I want to see… what it is like for you.' He felt a mixture of curiosity and apprehensiveness, but curiosity was quickly getting the upper hand.  
She looked at him for a moment, then smiled and kissed him. 'All right. I'm always happy to instruct you.'  
That made him smile. 'How very obliging of you.'  
She winked at him. 'Aren't I always obliging?'  
'True', he had to admit. 'Umm, what should I do?'  
'Just make yourself comfortable', she said, throwing off the blanket, slipping out of her silk underwear, and settling herself back in the pillows.  
He sat up next to her and retreated a little to the side of the bed to give her some space. She smiled at him, completely unabashed by his gaze, then closed her eyes, and, with a deep sigh, allowed her body to relax. He watched closely as she started moving her hand over her body, softly stroking her stomach, the inside of her thighs. To his surprise, she moved her hand upwards instead of down, lightly tracing her fingers over her skin. His eyes widened and he swallowed hard as she reached up to touch a breast, caressing the nipple until it went hard, then softly pinching it. Her lips parted slightly, and she sighed with pleasure. As she repeated the action on her other nipple, he noticed that she started moving her hips, squirming slightly on the bed, and he suddenly realized that this was all extremely tantalizing. He had to exert considerable self-control to keep himself from moving towards her and burying his face between her thighs, but he stayed where he was, and a moment later, her hand glided down her stomach, through her black curls, until it rested in just the right spot. He looked on in fascination as she moved her fingers, saw how she arched her back and tilted her hips, her left hand gripping the sheet. After a while, her breathing quickened and she started moaning softly, and Jack, a little flushed by now, had to admit that the sight was extraordinarily arousing.

Suddenly she stopped, and turned her head to look at him. He saw that her eyes were dark and slightly unfocussed, but there was also a question in them.  
'I'm not sure if I should…'  
'Go ahead', he said, not even caring what it was. He was a little beyond caring now.  
She bit her lip, a mischievous look in her eyes. 'I don't want to shock you.'  
He snorted. 'I think we've passed shocked a long time ago.'  
She smiled, then closed her eyes again. While keeping up a delicate rhythm with her right hand, she lifted her left leg slightly, and moved her left hand around her hip.  
'Oh God', Jack whispered hoarsely, eyes wide, as she pushed first one, then two fingers inside, gasping softly. When she started moving her hand rhythmically, her hips moved in the same rhythm as she arched her back even further. After a while, she suddenly threw her head back, moaning in a way that Jack knew so well. She was close. He watched on, fascinated, and felt that he had never seen anything so sensual, so arousing and so intimate.  
A moment later, her body tensed, then shocked slightly as she cried out softly: 'Oh… oh, Jack…'  
He looked at her in surprise, but she seemed unaware of him in the aftershocks of the orgasm. She shivered slightly, then he saw her gradually relax again, her breathing slowed, and she rested for a moment with her eyes still closed. Then, she looked up at him, and smiled a happy smile. He took that as his cue to move closer to her, and when he took her in his arms, she gratefully nestled into his warmth.

He had to ask. 'Why did you say that?'  
'Say what?'  
'My name.'  
She looked surprised. 'Did I?'  
'Well… yes.'  
'Oh. I didn't even realize', she smiled.  
'So why did you say my name when I wasn't doing anything?'  
'Well, probably because I was thinking about you. I always think about you.'  
He smiled, feeling suddenly very light-hearted.  
She hugged him closer. 'So you see, darling, you're always here with me, even when you're not.'  
He felt very happy as he kissed her head. 'Thank you', he murmured, lips against her hair.  
She looked up. 'What for?'  
'For letting me see this. I had no idea. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did earlier.'  
'That's alright. I suppose the idea does take some getting used to.'  
'To be honest…' he flushed a little, 'I quite liked it.'  
She grinned. 'I thought you might.' Then she turned to him with a sly smile. 'And now, we have a bet to settle, Inspector.'  
'A bet, Miss Fisher?' The events of earlier in the evening had been driven clean out of his mind.  
'The thief. I was right about him. And I seem to remember that you promised to make amends for not believing me.'  
He smiled. 'You are absolutely right. And I'm not a man to break my word, no matter how onerous the task may be.'  
She gasped as he suddenly flipped her onto her back, and delightedly wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her.  
'So… I hope you haven't spoiled your appetite, Miss Fisher', he teased her, a smile in his eyes.  
She grinned back at him. 'On the contrary, Inspector.'  
'Ready for a three-course meal?'  
'With you… always', she whispered as she kissed him.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's note: _I'm not _entirely_ happy with this one, but I hope you still like it.

Enjoy!

* * *

They fell back onto the bed, arms wrapped around each other, kissing fiercely, most of their clothing already discarded carelessly all over the bedroom. While he kissed the soft white skin of her throat, Jack slid his hand under her camisole in search of a nipple. When he found what he was looking for, he let his fingers brush it lightly, teasingly, and he felt it harden under his touch. He pinched gently. Her soft moan of pleasure, however, turned into a sigh of exasperation when there was a sudden knock on the door.  
'Yes?' she called out, unable to hide the note of impatience in her voice. Jack looked at the door with a slightly annoyed expression, withdrawing his hand.  
'I'm really sorry to bother you, miss,' came Dot's nervous voice from the other side of the door. 'But there's a lady here who wants to see you. She says it's urgent.'  
'Do I know her?'  
'No miss, she says she wants to engage your services. You see, she thinks her husband might be having an affair and she hoped you…'  
'Tell her to come back tomorrow, Dot', Phryne interrupted her. This was not the kind of case for which she was willing to abandon her current pursuit. She threw Jack a sensuous look, her mind already back to other matters. 'And I'm not receiving anyone else today, either.'  
'The… the entire day, miss?'  
Jack silently raised his eyebrows, amused.  
'Yes, Dot, the entire day.'  
'Alright then, miss. I'll tell the lady to come back tomorrow.'  
When they heard Dot's footsteps retreat back down the stairs, Jack pulled Phryne closer with a satisfied grunt and kissed her.  
'Sounds like you have big plans, Miss Fisher', he teased her, a smile in his voice.  
'You have no idea', she murmured hungrily, squirming slightly as his hands wandered over her body. 'I haven't seen you nearly enough this week.'  
It was true: he had been working hard that week, and he had spent the last three days sleeping at his own home, getting only a few hours' sleep before leaving for the station again. But now it was Sunday, and he had arrived at Miss Fisher's house around midmorning, only to be dragged straight upstairs before he even had the chance to take off his hat. Not that he was complaining.

He pulled the camisole over her head and closed his lips around her nipple, pulling gently. She gasped and tangled her hands into his hair. His hand moved slowly downward over her silk underwear, to softly caress the inside of her thigh. She opened her legs slightly, and his fingers moved to…  
Another knock on the door made them both jump. Jack swore softly as he slumped angrily back into the pillows. Now what? He saw his own frustration mirrored in Phryne's face as she called out: 'This better be important!'  
This time, it was Mr. Butler's voice on the other side of the door.  
'Begging your pardon, miss, but Constable Collins just telephoned from the station, asking for the Inspector.'  
Phryne glanced over at Jack, who looked very disgruntled by now. 'I'm not here', he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  
She smiled. 'Hugh _knows_ you're here, darling, I'm afraid that's not an option.'  
Jack sighed. 'Yes, Mr. Butler, what did Constable Collins tell you?'  
'That they've finally brought in the suspect you've been looking for, and they're waiting for you to come and interrogate him.'  
Jack groaned and reluctantly started to get out of bed, then took one look at Phryne's half naked body stretched out beside him and changed his mind. 'Tell Constable Collins I'll be there… in an hour', he said.  
'Certainly, Inspector', the butler answered, then left.  
Jack threw himself back down on the bed and turned to Phryne, who was watching him with a bit of a wry smile. 'Third time's the charm?' she teased, as she slid close to him again and kissed him.  
'This would be a lot easier if we weren't interrupted every five minutes', he grumbled.  
Her face suddenly lit up. 'Jack,' she breathed, excitement in her eyes,' I just had the most _marvelous _idea! Why don't we go away next week, just you and me. A whole weekend alone, at the seaside, for example. Somewhere nobody will bother us.'  
He frowned. 'That sounds nice, but I'm not sure I can get away…'  
She sighed. 'Well, let's discuss it later. For now…' She wrapped her arms around him and gave him her most seductive look. 'Let's not waste the rest of that hour.'  
'Agreed', he smiled as he kissed her.

The third knock caused such a comic expression of pained disbelief to appear on Jack's face, that Phryne couldn't help but laugh.  
'What is it now, Mr. Butler?' she called out, as Jack buried his face in the pillow next to her.  
'Terribly sorry to disturb you Miss, but I spoke to Constable Collins…'  
'This is not happening', came Jack's muffled voice from the pillow.  
'He asks if the Inspector can please come straight away. The suspect's not cooperating, and I had the impression that Constable Collins can't handle him alone.'  
Jack heaved a great sigh, then lifted his head to answer in a resigned tone. 'Of course. Tell him I'll be right there.'  
Phryne patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. 'Don't worry. We'll make up for this tonight.'  
Jack grumbled something as he started gathering his clothes from all around the room. He suddenly stopped and turned to her, half-dressed. 'You know, you were right. Let's go away next weekend. I'm sure they can manage without me for a few days, and we really need some time alone.'  
She gave him a delighted smile. 'Fabulous! I'm sure I can think of a suitable location.'  
She got out of bed and started dressing.  
'What are you doing?' he asked.  
'Coming with you, of course. Uncooperative suspects are my favorite.'

* * *

They arrived home late that evening. Phryne had decided to take an interest in Jack's case, and had insisted on sitting in on the interrogation. Afterwards, they had continued their investigation by pursuing the new clues they had gleaned from their questioning of the suspect. When they finally made it home, Phryne smiled to see that there were two glasses of whiskey waiting for them in the parlor – Mr. Butler knew, as always, what was required. They talked about the case for a while, then Jack tentatively brought up the subject they had talked about that morning.  
'Phryne… about us going away this weekend…'  
She frowned. 'Don't tell me you've changed your mind about that. They can manage perfectly well without you at the station for a couple of days.'  
'Believe me,' he smiled, 'nothing in the world could make me change my mind about that – especially after the morning we had. No, I was simply considering locations.'  
'Oh,' she said, her expression brightening, 'Well, why not go to Queenscliff, for example?'  
He raised an eyebrow. 'I've told you I'm not taking you to the beach anymore. You're a constant threat to public decency.'  
She laughed. 'Well, what do you propose then, Inspector? Somewhere very secluded would be ideal. That way we certainly won't be disturbed and you don't have to worry about me shocking the locals.'  
He hesitated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her, but on the other hand, he really didn't like the thought of having to spend an entire weekend in a sumptuously luxurious environment where he would feel out of place, and that he wouldn't really be able to afford anyway. A rather alarming thought suddenly occurred to him: what if she wanted to pay for the whole thing? He couldn't allow that. He took a deep breath. 'I might know a place.'  
'Really? Do tell!'  
'I… I have a small cabin, up in the mountains. It's very secluded, and it shouldn't be too cold up there yet at this time of the year.'  
Her eyes were shining. 'Sounds absolutely _perfect_, Jack! Why haven't I heard about this mysterious cabin before?'  
He was a little embarrassed now. 'Well… I like to go there sometimes to get away from things. For a little quiet. To read. But… it's not very comfortable, really. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up.'  
'Nonsense, Jack! I never would have taken you for an outdoorsman. I'm quite intrigued,' she teased. 'I will definitely need to see this cabin now.'  
He was still a little unsure. 'Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay somewhere more comfortable?'  
'Jack, you sometimes forget that I wasn't born in luxury.' She smiled. 'A Collingwood girl like me doesn't mind roughing it a bit.'  
He returned her smile, relieved. 'Well then, that's settled. We can drive up next weekend.' He shot her a warning look. 'But I'm driving.'  
She rolled her eyes, but did not protest.

* * *

As they were driving the next Saturday, Phryne inquired how Jack had come to possess a cabin in the woods. 'You don't seem like the kind of man to go looking for a cabin to buy', she stated.  
'No', he said, 'I inherited it, so to speak. It was my uncle's. He was always a strange man, nothing like the rest of the family. When he got older, he suddenly shocked the entire family by abandoning his proper middle class environment and choosing to come and live a simple and isolated life in the mountains. We never saw him much. When he died, the cabin technically became my parents', but I'm the only one who ever goes there.'  
They were driving through a thickly forested area of the mountains now.  
'Almost there.'  
As they rounded a bend, a small log cabin came into view, settled snugly in a beautiful clearing between the trees. They stopped in front of the house, and when they got out, they stood together looking at it for a moment.  
'Well… this is it', Jack said nervously, before continuing a little apologetically. 'It might be a bit dusty inside. I haven't been here since we… since our… since I've been staying at your house every weekend.'  
She smiled at him. 'It looks absolutely charming, darling, don't worry.' She shivered slightly. 'But let's go inside, it's not very warm up here.'  
'Yes, of course.' He helped her get her bags out of the car, wondering why on earth she had brought so much luggage, but deciding not to question her about this perpetual mystery of the travelling female. Inside, the cabin was very simple and sparsely furnished, but it did have a nice stone fireplace, a comfortable armchair, and a few shelves full of books. A small pile of wood was stacked neatly next to the fireplace, and Jack immediately set about making a fire while Phryne explored the cabin, curious to learn more about Jack's secret hideout.  
As she ran her hand over the slightly dusty table, she tried to sound casual as she asked: 'Did you often bring Rosie here?'  
He was kneeling with his back to her at the fireplace, but Phryne saw him stiffen at the question. He took a moment before he answered, and she feared that she might have hit a nerve.  
'No', he finally answered her, and she was relieved to hear that his tone was normal. 'She didn't like it here. Said it was too remote, too uncomfortable.' He looked up at Phryne, a little apprehensive. 'What do you think?'  
She looked around with a smile. 'I think it suits you. And I like it… it's nice to be out of the city.'  
He smiled and continued to kindle the fire.

When it quickly became apparent that there were no big secrets to uncover, Phryne gravitated towards the fireplace, drawn by the warmth of the fire that was beginning to spread through the house. She was shivering now, Jack noticed, so he draped his own coat over her shoulders and invited her to sit down on the thick rug, close to the heat of the fire. When he took off his coat, Phryne noticed that he was much more casually dressed than usual, wearing a jumper instead of his signature three-piece suit. He went to fetch a blanket from the bed, and settled down next to her, pulling her close and covering them both with the blanket. They sat together snugly for a while as the warmth of the fire washed over them and the cabin slowly heated up. Every once in a while, Jack threw another log onto the fire, and the pile of wood dwindled quickly. When it was almost gone, Jack got up.  
'I'd better go out and get some more wood before it gets dark', he said.  
Phryne looked up curiously. 'And… how exactly will you get more wood?'  
He raised an eyebrow. 'Well how do you think? I'm going to chop some, of course.'  
She looked at him in incredulous delight, and laughed. 'Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, chopping wood! Well, I never thought I'd see the day', she teased.  
He smiled at her. 'Never just think you've completely figured me out, Miss Fisher', he replied mysteriously, before disappearing through the door. She considered going out to watch, but it had started to drizzle outside, and the fire was nice and warm. The room had finally heated up enough for her to discard Jack's coat and her own, but she kept the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She stared dreamily into the fire for a while, until the door opened and she looked up as Jack entered, wet from the rain, with his arms full of logs, and she felt her breath catch a little in her throat. He was only wearing a shirt now, rolled up to the elbows to expose his muscular arms. His hair was messed up, he was covered with a slight sheen of rain and sweat, and he had a smudge of dirt on his cheek. She bit her lip. He looked so…

Jack piled the logs next to the fireplace, then returned to fetch a bucket of water from the well. He placed it next to the fire to heat up, and turned to see Phryne looking at him with an expression he knew only too well. He grinned and kneeled down next to her.  
'Are you warm enough?' he asked innocently.  
She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt with a sensuous look. 'Quite.'  
He pulled back slightly. 'Don't you want me to wash up first?'  
'Don't even think about it', she murmured distractedly, running her hand through his wet hair, then down his neck to his shoulder, where the shirt was clinging to his skin.  
'Are you sure?' he teased her, stroking her nose with one finger and leaving behind a slight smudge.  
She smiled, and did not attempt to remove it. 'Don't think a little mud will stop me', she laughed. It was really quite remarkable, she thought, how different he suddenly was. He hardly looked like her Jack anymore, always so proper and stiff. Now that they were far away from other people, in an environment where he clearly felt comfortable, he was relaxed and confident, laughing and teasing her unselfconsciously. She loved his disheveled appearance, too. She had never seen him like this, he always took such care to dress neatly, and she liked that about him. But she had to admit there was something particularly appealing about him right now. Out of his suit, with his sleeves rolled up and his hair messy, wet from the rain, he almost seemed like a different person, calm and strong…  
'I think', she whispered, 'we should really get you out of those wet clothes. You might catch a cold', she added innocently.  
'We wouldn't want that,' he smiled his crooked smile as he stripped off his shirt, then stood up in one fluent movement to throw more wood onto the fire. She watched the ripple of muscles on his back with a hungry look, which he recognized immediately when he turned around. He knelt back down next to her with a small smile and kissed her, pushing her back onto the rug. Outside, the rain kept falling in a cold drizzle, but it was warm in front of the crackling fire as he undressed her silently, then took her with an easy confidence that quite took her breath away.

* * *

When he woke up, it was dark outside. The fire was still burning – Phryne must have put more wood on it. He looked up to see her moving around the cabin, lighting candles here and there. She looked lovely in the candlelight, wearing nothing but his shirt, her hair tousled and her eyes dark. When she noticed that he was awake, she joined him in front of the fire again, and he saw that she still had a smudge on her nose. He smiled, deciding that the effect was absolutely charming.  
'Are you hungry?' she asked.  
'Yes, actually, now you mention it.'  
'Good.' She went over to one of the large baskets she had brought, and started taking out different dishes, a bottle of champagne, and two glasses. So that was why she had brought so much luggage. While she was unpacking, he washed himself in the bucket of water standing next to the fire, then sat down to dry in the blaze. She brought everything over to where he sat, and he poured the champagne while she set out several of his favorite dishes. She sat down next to him, and they talked and laughed while they enjoyed the meal, Phryne feeding Jack tasty morsels from her fork every now and then.  
When the meal was over, they cleared away the dishes, then Phryne flashed him a mischievous smile.  
'For dessert, I propose a game… if you're up for it, of course', she said, looking at him archly.  
Usually he wasn't much of a game player, but he felt pleasantly relaxed and happy, and ready to agree to anything she proposed. He raised an eyebrow. 'Well… what game?'  
She rummaged in one of her bags, then pulled out a dark blue silk scarf. 'I blindfold you', she said, 'then you have to guess what I've brought for dessert.' She pointed at the last, unopened package in the basket.  
'Can't I just close my eyes?' he asked, amused.  
'Now Jack, where's the fun in that?' she asked him playfully.  
So he leaned back with a smile and allowed her to blindfold him. When she was absolutely sure he couldn't see anything, he heard her unwrap the package.  
'Alright', he heard her say, and he opened his mouth slightly, silently doubting whether this was entirely wise. He needn't have worried.  
'Hmm. Apple pie', he mumbled.  
'Is it sweet enough?' she asked, in a tone so innocent he knew she was going somewhere. He decided to play along.  
'I suppose it could use some sweetening', he replied cautiously.  
'Here.'  
He opened his mouth again, and tasted honey on her fingers. He reached up to stay her hand, and took his time to taste the sweetness, taking a finger into his mouth to suck it, and he heard her gasp slightly. The honey had dripped down her fingers, and he followed the trail to slowly lick the palm of her hand, then her wrist. He couldn't see her, but from the way she stayed still, and the way she was breathing, he could tell that she liked what he was doing. By the time he could find nothing more, he was quite hungry for other things.  
'Can I take off the blindfold now?' he asked huskily.  
'Oh, I don't think so', she whispered, and he could hear that she was smiling. 'Just wait for a moment.'  
He could hear her move, but he had no idea what she was planning to do. It took considerable willpower not to remove the blindfold to see what she was up to, because he felt quite vulnerable. Nevertheless, he decided to trust her. A moment later, he could feel her close to him, and he thought she was lying down. She took his hand to guide him to her, and his fingers touched bare flesh and… something sticky. He smiled. So that was her game. Well, he had no objections to that. He licked the honey from his fingers, then reached down to look for the source. His mouth found the soft skin of her throat, where she had traced a very thin trail for him to follow. His tongue followed the sweetness, upwards, until he reached her lips. He kissed the honey off of them, then kissed her deeply. When he drew back, she whispered: 'There's more.'  
He grinned, and moved downwards, keeping his lips to her skin to guide him down her body. He tasted the sweetness in the little hollow of her throat, just above her collarbone. He knew where he would be able to find more, but he teased her by feigning ignorance, moving down to kiss her chest, her stomach, then drawing slow circles around her nipples before taking them into his mouth. She tangled her fingers into his hair and drew him closer with a soft moan.

When he tried to move further downward, however, she surprised him by suddenly putting her hand against his shoulder and pushing him so he rolled onto his back. He didn't try to resist – as long as he couldn't see, she was in control.  
'I think you still have some honey on your fingers', he heard her soft voice, and he felt how she lifted his hand and, one by one, licked his fingers. The sensation was very tantalizing, but he thought the sight would be even more so, and he was getting frustrated at not being able to see.  
'I'm taking this off', he said, reaching up to remove the blindfold.  
'Don't you dare.' He heard the smile in her voice, but she caught his hands and held them down.  
'But I want to see you', he said huskily.  
Her voice was very close to his ear as she whispered: 'Jack, you need to learn to let go.'  
He frowned uncomfortably. He didn't like the fact that he didn't know what was happening, it made him feel like he had no control over the situation. But he supposed she was right, so he tried to relax and surrendered to her touch.  
He soon discovered that there was something particularly arousing about not being able to see. He was suddenly much more focused on the sensations he was experiencing, and not knowing where the next kiss, the next touch would be only added to his pleasure. She was moving all over his body, kissing and caressing, delicately using her tongue and teeth to make him shiver. But when she used her nails to trail down his stomach, he couldn't take it anymore.  
'That's it', he growled, taking off the blindfold and pushing her down so he could kiss her.  
She laughed and did not resist. 'Did you like it?'  
'It was driving me mad.'  
She grinned. 'Perfect.'  
'I want you.'  
'I'm yours.'

The grey light of dawn was creeping in through the windows by the time they finally fell asleep. Having dismissed the narrow, hard bed, they made a nest on the rug with all the blankets they could find, and fell asleep in front of the fire, wrapped around each other. Before he allowed his own tiredness to overtake him, Jack watched for a while how the light of the fire played on her skin. He had never loved her more than at this moment, loved how she didn't mind the floor, the mud, the discomfort of their surroundings. He realized that she hadn't complained for a moment, or even shown any inclination to complain. She had simply made the best of the circumstances, as she always did. He kissed her hair, and she stirred slightly in her sleep, nestling even closer to him. He might have underestimated her, he thought. She was tougher than she seemed. His Collingwood girl.


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's note: I know, it's been forever since I updated! I'm sorry for the delay, but I've had a very busy time at work, and honestly, I was quite out of inspiration. _

_So a HUGE thank you to Izzyandlouie for giving me the idea for this story! I hope you like it :)_

_Enjoy! And please review! :)_

* * *

Something was going on, she could just feel it. Jack had been very secretive the last few days, about the case he'd been working on. It wasn't a murder, she knew, because she would have heard of it somehow and found a way to insinuate herself into the investigation. It was something else entirely, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get him to talk. And, honestly, that annoyed her to no end. She was usually able to sway him in some way or other. But not this time, which told her that this was a big case, and made her all the more eager to be in on the action.  
But Jack remained stubbornly silent under her questioning. She had tried to work on Hugh, but though he became very red and stuttering every time she tried, he stayed staunchly, and irritatingly, loyal to his Inspector's cause. And then the moment came when Jack told her he'd be gone for a while.  
She frowned at him. 'How long is a while?'  
'I don't know.'  
'Can you give me an estimate? Three days? A week? Longer?'  
'I honestly can't say. Several days at least.'  
'Will it be dangerous? Because then you should at least take me with you.'  
He smiled. 'No, not very dangerous. But it's an incredibly delicate matter.'  
She ran her finger up his arm in her sweetest manner. 'I can be delicate.'  
'I have no doubt about that,' he said, as he took her hand and kissed it. 'But I can't take you with me.'  
She looked at him speculatively. 'Are you going undercover again?'  
'I can't tell you that,' he replied, but the way he suddenly looked uncomfortable told her plainly enough. She tried to persuade him one last time.  
'Come on, Jack, you know I can work any undercover persona! You've seen me work at the circus, and the gentleman's club…' She grinned as he colored at the memory. 'Just… let me help.'  
He sighed, but did not give in. 'You can't help me this time.'  
'Why not?'  
'You can't go undercover on this one.'  
She gave him a piercing look. 'Someone I know is involved, aren't they? Someone who would recognize me?'  
His face was suddenly a blank mask, his expression unreadable. 'I didn't say that. You simply can't help me here, end of discussion.'  
There was a long pause as they sized each other up, and she could see him steel himself for the battle. But then she sighed, relenting. 'Fine. I'll trust your judgment on this. But don't be gone too long, or I'll be obliged to come and look for you.'  
He smiled, relieved, and leaned in to kiss her. 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'

* * *

One week later, with no word from Jack, Phryne walked through a big, oaken front door into a spotless marble hallway, Bert and Cec following right behind her, staggering slightly under the weight of several suitcases, hat boxes, and portmanteaus. A tall woman emerged from the parlor to greet her. She was in her late thirties, and beautiful in a sophisticated kind of way. Advancing towards Phryne, she embraced her gently, and Phryne returned the embrace with a fond smile.  
'Mary! It's been so long.'  
'Too long, dear Phryne. I was so glad when you called.'  
'Well, it's really _very_ kind of you to let me stay here for a while.'  
'Oh, that's no trouble dear, no trouble at all. The refurnishing of one's dining room is such a tedious business. Workmen traipsing in and out at all hours of the day, dust everywhere, and the noise…' She shuddered slightly. 'No, no, you did the right thing when you called me. One can't be expected to bear such things. And you are welcome for as long as you would like to stay.'  
Phryne smiled. 'Well, I'm very grateful.'  
Mary looked around vaguely. 'You must come into the parlor and have a drink, it must have been exhausting to pack everything and move…'  
Phryne suppressed a smile. 'I only had to move across town, it wasn't a very long journey. Though I wouldn't say no to a drink, of course.'  
She followed her hostess through to the parlor, where the butler poured them drinks.  
'Hasn't your maid come with you?' Mary asked, apparently having just noted the absence of Dot and seeming mildly surprised by it.  
'She's my companion, and no, I felt it would be better to leave her at home.'  
'Very wise, I'm sure. She'll be able to keep an eye on things. And not to worry, Jenny can assist you with your toilette.'  
'Oh, that's very kind, but I can usually manage without help,' Phryne smiled, running a hand over her smooth hair. 'The advantage of not having to do one's hair, you know.'  
'Yes…' Mary answered, eyeing Phryne's short hair with a slightly uncomfortable look, as if suspecting it of having an altogether too modern and provocative agenda. Her own long hair had been pinned up with great care, creating an elegant effect that could not possibly be attained without the help of an experienced ladies' maid.  
'Well…' Mary said, taking a glass and offering a second one to Phryne. 'It's a lovely evening. Would you like to sit out on the terrace and enjoy the breeze? It's been so frightfully hot lately.'  
'Yes,' Phryne smiled, 'that sounds delightful.'

When they walked out, the sun was just above the treetops, bathing the terrace in a soft golden glow. It was a raised terrace, lined with pillars, with sweeping steps down to the lawn. They sat down in two comfortable chairs and looked out over the large, beautifully kept garden while they chatted gaily over their drinks. A man appeared around the corner of the house, wearing a casual suit and a hat, deeply absorbed in a notebook as he walked.  
'That's not someone of your usual staff, is it?' Phryne asked Mary curiously.  
'No, that's Mr. Johnson, he's here to redo our garden. He's an architect, you see.' When the man came nearer, still busily writing in his notebook, Mary called out to him. 'Mr. Johnson, let me introduce my friend, Miss Fisher.'  
The man stopped and looked up, revealing a handsome face with high cheekbones. His blue eyes widened in disbelief when he saw Phryne, and his expression turned to alarm when Mary continued: 'Miss Fisher will be staying with us for a couple of days while her dining room is being refurnished.'  
Phryne flashed him a bright smile and inclined her head. 'Nice to meet you… Mr. Johnson.'  
He tipped his hat to her in return and replied in a deep, warm voice: 'And you, Miss Fisher.' He gave her a quick reproachful look before hurrying off, leaving Phryne to conceal a grin behind her hand.  
Mary watched him go with a look of mild surprise. 'Well, he's usually quite polite, really. He's staying here, too, you know. We had to let him come all the way from Sydney, but he came so highly recommended, and we didn't want him to be uncomfortable in a hotel. He'll be dining with us, I hope you don't mind…'  
'Oh, not at all!'  
'Good. He's really a gentleman, you know, so we couldn't let him dine with the servants in the kitchen. Very educated, too. You should hear him quote Shakespeare.'  
Phryne again suppressed a smile. 'Well, he seems like a very pleasant guest.'  
'Yes…' said Mary vaguely. 'Yes, quite. And I'm sure he's very skilled at his job. Though he mostly seems to be writing in that notebook. I haven't really seen him _do_ much yet…'  
'Well,' Phryne said, 'I'm sure he'll need to work out a design for the garden before he can begin to execute it.'  
'Yes, I suppose that must be it…'  
After that, Mary changed the subject and they talked of mutual acquaintances until it was time to go in and dress for dinner. Phryne was shown to her room by the butler, and found to her satisfaction that everything had been unpacked for her. She dressed quickly and went down again. When she was walking along the corridor to the dining room, she nearly bumped into him coming around a corner. He immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side.  
'_What_ are you doing here?' he demanded in a fierce whisper.  
'And hello to you too, Jack,' she grinned.  
'This isn't funny!' he growled. 'It's of the utmost importance that I keep my cover.'  
'Don't worry, I won't give you away.'  
'How did you even know I was here?' he said, looking around furtively to check that nobody was near.  
'I have my sources,' she replied mysteriously.  
'Hugh?'  
'Of course.'  
He looked at her suspiciously. 'What did you do to him?'  
'Nothing!' she exclaimed innocently. 'Honestly Jack, I didn't do anything!'  
'Are you saying he volunteered the information to you?' he asked, one eyebrow raised.  
'Well… not to me, exactly. To Dot. And I do admit that there were biscuits involved.'  
He sighed. 'Bribing my constable with female charms and biscuits. You should be ashamed of yourself.'  
She laughed. 'I'm afraid that particular emotion is quite foreign to me, Inspector.'  
'Sadly enough. And you can't call me that in here.'  
'Fine then, _Mr. Johnson_,' she teased. 'Now, tell me why you are here.'  
'No.' he stated bluntly. 'You tell me why _you _are here.'  
'Well, isn't it obvious? Mary's a dear old friend of mine. When I heard you were going undercover at her house, I really _had _to find out why. So I got myself invited.'  
He looked at her impassively. 'Is your dining room really getting refurnished?'  
'Of course it is!' she exclaimed, 'I never lie if I can help it.'  
'Did it _need _refurnishing?' he asked her slyly.  
'Well,' she avoided his eye. 'I'm sure it can't hurt to have a change of scenery every now and then.'  
He snorted and she quickly changed the subject.  
'Jack, just tell my why you are here. I can help you. Why are you undercover in Mary's house? It's her husband, isn't it? I never liked him.'  
'I can't tell you,' he said stubbornly.  
'Come on Jack, I'm here now anyway! You may as well confide in me and accept my help.'  
He gave her a long, calculating look. 'You're an absolute nuisance sometimes, do you know that?'  
She lifted a shoulder and an eyebrow, with a small smile on her lips, looking rather like he'd complimented her. 'I try.'  
He sighed. 'Fine. I'll tell you. But not here, someone might pass by any moment. After dinner.'  
She beamed at him, but he just threw her another exasperated look before moving upstairs to dress. With a look of great satisfaction, Phryne went into the dining room and asked the butler for a drink.

* * *

Dinner was an awkward affair that night. At least, it seemed very awkward for Jack. Phryne was rather enjoying herself, asking him questions to see how well his background story would hold up, though when he threw her a look that plainly told her she was on thin ice, she decided it might be wiser to stop. Afterwards, the meal proceeded fairly tediously. Mary's husband John had joined them, and dominated most of the conversation in a loud and overly jovial voice that Phryne found rather irritating. She was glad when the meal ended, and John excused himself, saying he needed to finish some paperwork in his study.  
Mary turned to her guest. 'Phryne, dear, I'm so sorry, but I have a dreadful headache. Would you mind terribly if I went to bed early?'  
'Not at all, Mary! I do hope you'll feel better tomorrow.'  
After a round of 'goodnights', Mary left the dining room, and Jack and Phryne were alone.  
'I think I'll take a breath of fresh air,' Phryne said. 'Care to join me, Mr. Johnson?'  
Jack nodded, and followed Phryne out on the terrace, where they would not be overheard.  
The moment they were out of earshot, he turned to her with a thunderous expression.  
'Would you mind_ not_ trying to expose me, Miss Fisher?'  
She rolled her eyes. 'Don't be so melodramatic, Jack. I never asked you anything you shouldn't have an answer to anyway.'  
'Still, I don't think –'  
She interrupted him. 'You said you'd tell me what John is up to.'  
'I never said John was up to anything.'  
'Oh come on Jack, I'm not stupid. It must be someone in the house, and I don't suppose you're here to investigate the butler. And Mary is a dear, but she's much too absentminded to be planning anything nefarious. So it must be John.'  
He sighed and gave her another calculating look. 'You can't repeat anything I tell you.'  
'My lips are sealed.'  
'Well… do you remember the case where we arrested your friend, Lydia Andrews, for smuggling cocaine?'  
'The first case we worked together,' Phryne smiled at the memory, placing a soft hand on Jack's arm.  
He brushed it away absentmindedly. 'Don't do that, it's not proper. Anyway, it seems that Mrs. Andrews left something of a power vacuum in the cocaine business, one that we suspect has recently been filled by your friend Mr. John Shaw.' He lifted an eyebrow. 'Some friends you have, by the way.'  
'John's not my friend,' Phryne stated indignantly. 'So you think he's smuggling cocaine?'  
'We're sure of it.'  
'Then why not just arrest him?'  
'First of all: we don't have enough evidence yet. Secondly, we don't just want to arrest _him_. Someone else would simply take his place. We need to know who his associates are, so we can take down the entire operation in one stroke. So when word got out that the Shaws were looking for an architect to redo their garden for them, that was the perfect chance to get someone inside.'  
'Good,' she said. 'Though you should be careful not to just loiter about. Even Mary's noticed that you don't seem to be doing much, and she's not exactly the observant type.'  
'Oh. Yes. Thank you for the warning. I'll try to be more active tomorrow.'  
'And what about gathering evidence?'  
'The day after tomorrow, Mr. Shaw will be away on business. Mrs. Shaw will be at a spa during the afternoon. It's the butler's day off. That will be the perfect opportunity to break into Mr. Shaw's study and have a look around.'  
Phryne's eyes sparkled. 'Excellent plan! Shall I help you pick the lock?'  
'No, I'll need you somewhere else.'  
'Where?'  
'_At the spa with Mrs. Shaw._'  
'Come on Jack! Let me assist you. What can I do to help?'  
'Do you really want to help?'  
'Yes!'  
'Then _go home_,' he stated bluntly.  
'I'm going to ignore that, because I know you didn't mean it,' she replied in a dignified tone. 'Besides, my dining room is being refurnished.'  
He rolled his eyes. She moved closer to him, trying to dispel his angry mood by softly placing a hand on his chest and looking up at him with her sweetest look. 'Jack,' she whispered, 'I won't get in your way, I promise. I'll behave.' She leaned in, and for a moment it seemed to work: she saw his anger melt away, to be replaced by a softer look as he unthinkingly responded by pulling her closer. Then he seemed to come to his senses again, and he pushed her away hastily, looking around to see if they were still alone.  
'Don't do that,' he said, but Phryne was relieved to hear that his voice was much gentler than before. For a moment, he seemed himself again as he said with a half-smile: 'You know I can't resist you when you do that.'  
Then he was serious again, and he inclined his head unsmilingly. 'Well, goodnight Miss Fisher.'  
She nodded back at him. 'Goodnight Mr. Johnson.'  
He walked past her to the door into the house, and she looked after him wistfully. Then she smiled.

* * *

The house was dark and quiet as she tiptoed along the hall in her dressing gown, counting the doors on her left. She stopped, and saw that there was a strip of light coming from underneath the door. She knocked softly, and the door opened to reveal Jack, wearing a dressing gown and a frown.  
'Is everything all right?' he asked in a low voice, looking worried.  
'Of course,' she answered lightly. 'Let me in.'  
'What? Why?'  
She raised an eyebrow at him.  
He gave her a very stern look in return. 'Do you call that behaving yourself?'  
She responded with a wicked smile. 'I'll behave tomorrow.' She tried to slip past him, but he caught her and pushed her out again with a firm hand.  
'Don't even think about it. If anyone saw, it would be much too suspicious.'  
She shrugged. 'Honestly, it would be suspicious if I _didn't_ try to get into your bed. Everyone knows that I have affairs all the time. Used to,' she corrected quickly when she saw the look on his face. '_Used to_ have affairs.'  
'Well, I don't. I'd like to keep my reputation intact, thank you very much. I have a wife and three kids back in Sydney.'  
She stared at him for a moment before remembering that he was talking about his undercover persona. 'Jack!' she exclaimed, disappointed. 'Such a dull background story! That doesn't leave _any_ room for romance.'  
'Well, I didn't exactly know _you _were going to be here, did I?' he stated drily. 'Now go back to your room, before anyone sees us.'  
'Fine.' She shook her head. 'Married with three children, honestly…'  
'_Go_,' he said urgently, but instead she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, ever so softly, on a cheek.  
'Sweet dreams,' she whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine, before turning and walking away. He watched her go, suddenly regretting his decision. For a moment he considered going after her, and never mind the consequences. She always seemed to get away with it, why shouldn't he? The thought of Phryne's warmth and company after so many lonely and stressful days was very tempting. Nevertheless, his sense of duty overcame his longing, and with a sigh of regret, he closed the door and climbed into his cold and empty bed.

* * *

They got a surprise the next morning at breakfast, when Mary announced that her cousin Frederick was moving back to town, and would be staying with them for an indeterminate period of time while he got settled. Jack frowned. More people in the house would only hamper his plans  
Phryne asked the question that he wasn't really in a position to ask. 'When will he arrive, exactly?'  
'I'm not sure, dear. Probably around midmorning.'  
Jack's scowl deepened as he returned to his plate. This meant he would have another person to get out of the way tomorrow, when he had planned to break into Mr. Shaw's study. He was still mulling it over when he went out to the garden a little while later, this time armed with a measuring stick as well as his notebook. He had decided to take Phryne's advice and play a more active part in his pretend redesigning of the garden.

Mr. Frederick Weston did indeed arrive around midmorning, and the entire house knew at once. He brought with him a great amount of luggage, a great number of servants, and a great deal of noise. For a while, the whole household was bustling with trying to find rooms for everyone and clearing away the luggage. Through it all, Mr. Weston stood in the thick of it, commanding everyone with a great deal of good humor and charm, joking with the maids and confidently steering the footmen in the right direction. He was a tall, handsome man in his mid-thirties, with a thin mustache and a perpetual twinkle in his eye. When everything was finally cleared away, he allowed himself to be led into the parlor by Mary, where she introduced him to Phryne.  
'Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weston,' Phryne said, extending her hand to him.  
His eyes sparkled as they swept over her appreciatively, and instead of shaking her hand, he gently took it and kissed it. 'The pleasure is all mine, Miss Fisher,' he replied with a smile, looking deep into her eyes. Phryne smiled in return, though not because she was charmed by his winning ways. Rather, she was thinking amusedly of her Inspector. _Oh, Jack is going to _hate_ him_. He was much too charming, much too slick, for her straightforward detective inspector. She was curious to see how things would play out between them.

Her first impression turned out to be correct: the moment Jack walked through the door of the dining room for lunch, the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval at the sight of the newcomer, who was sitting at the table perfectly at ease, making casual conversation with Mary and Phryne. All through the meal, Phryne kept an eye on Jack, and she saw his disapproval deepen to dislike while he listened to the man's inane chatter, which poured forth so smoothly and kept everyone amused, from Phryne to the serving girls. She tried not to laugh at his jokes, feeling that it would be unwise to annoy Jack further at a moment when his patience with her was already worn thin. It was almost a relief when lunch was over and Jack returned to the gardens. Mary excused herself, saying that she had a headache again and would go up to rest for a while. Phryne and Mr. Weston wandered out onto the terrace, where the butler brought them drinks, and they chatted together amiably as they looked out over the garden, which lay before them shimmering slightly in the heat of the afternoon.

Jack, meanwhile, was measuring a patch of grass in a back corner of the lawn. If he was going to have to be active, he might as well do something useful, and some of the rose bushes needed replanting. He had sent the lad who usually did the gardening for the Shaws to dig them up while he selected a likely spot for them in the existing rose garden, which would benefit from some extra flowers. After a while, the gardener came with the bushes, and Jack went to get a second spade from beside the house. As he passed the terrace, he could hear Phryne talking and laughing with Frederick Weston, and he frowned. He _definitely_ didn't like that man. As he returned, he had a clear view of them, and he saw Phryne give Mr. Weston her most flirtatious look, laying a light hand on his arm and leaning towards him, smiling. Much to his own surprise, he felt a sudden pang of jealousy. For a moment, he stood rooted to the spot, then he hastily returned to the rose garden, and tried to reason with himself while he worked, digging fiercely to work off his emotion. After all, she wasn't doing anything wrong. She had a perfect right to talk and laugh with whomever she wanted, especially since he wasn't exactly entertaining company right now. He suddenly regretted how blunt he'd been with her yesterday. She had caught him off guard, which had annoyed him, but he felt that he could have handled the situation with more tact. He was a little worried that she might actually like this Mr. Weston, whose manners were very smooth when compared to his own.

When he went in to take a slight refreshment around 4 o'clock, his worst fears seemed to be realized. Phryne fairly ignored him, standing very close to Frederick Weston while they talked in low voices and laughed together. Jack was alarmed to see that Mr. Weston was clearly smitten (not that he blamed him), and was making every effort to charm Phryne. With a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, he marched out again, and resumed his work, even though the gardener had already gone home for the day. Though it was late in the afternoon, the sun still burned, and since he was alone now, he decided to take off his shirt, and continued work in his singlet. He kept on digging in silence, frowning down at the earth and trying to push away the thoughts that kept worrying him. Was she angry with him? Did she really like that arrogant dandy? He flushed as he thought how he must look next to the impeccably groomed Mr. Weston: he had gone in sweaty, dirty and in his shirt sleeves. He could hardly blame her if she preferred an actual gentleman.

'Well Inspector, you've certainly got me convinced of your gardening skills,' came an amused voice from behind him. He had been so deep in thought he hadn't heard her coming around the hedge that secluded the rose garden from the rest of the garden. He turned around in alarm, but she was alone, and smiling. A feeling of relief swept through him at the sight of that smile.  
'I thought I'd see how you were getting on and… oh!' she exclaimed, as he suddenly swept her into his arms and kissed her so passionately they nearly fell into the hedge.  
'Jack!' she said, a little breathlessly, when he released her. 'What's gotten into you? This is a bit of a change in attitude from last night, when you said that…' She suddenly stopped and gave him a sly look from underneath her eyelashes. 'Hmm. Marking off our territory, are we?'  
He felt himself go red, and quickly busied himself with the spade. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'  
'Oh yes you do!' She sounded highly amused. 'You don't like me talking to Frederick Weston.'  
He dropped the spade again and turned to her, arms crossed over his chest. 'Well, you were _talking _to him rather cozily.'  
She remained perfectly calm, a small smile still playing around her lips. 'Jack, I always talk to men that way. I thought you would want me to act as normal as possible.'  
He frowned. 'I've never seen you behave like that, so… obvious.'  
'That's because I tone it down when I'm around you. I always have.'  
'Why?'  
'I knew you wouldn't like it.'  
He looked startled at the thought of so much consideration. Something still bothered him, though. 'Then why did you ignore me when I came in earlier?'  
She seemed surprised. 'I was trying not to draw attention to us, of course.'  
He suddenly felt a little ashamed of his suspicions. 'Oh.'  
'You thought I liked him!' she exclaimed, a look of surprise on her face. 'Jack! Did you really think I would fall for a man like that?'  
He raised an eyebrow. She grinned. 'All right, fine, he _might _have been my type before, but I would never fall for him _now_. Why would you even think that, when I have a man like you?'  
'Yes, quite a man I am right now', he grunted, taking up the spade again to avoid her eye. 'Covered in mud and working in someone else's garden.'  
'Don't be silly, Jack. I actually like you better like this than in your suit.' He looked at her questioningly, and she winked. 'Less layers for me to take off, you know.'  
He couldn't help but smile as he turned and started digging again. She sat down on a garden bench nearby and watched him work, silently admiring his strong bare arms and shoulders. When he straightened and ran a hand through his tousled hair, she felt herself flush a little. What she wouldn't give to be able to ravish him right then and there… He seemed to feel her eyes on him, because he turned around.  
'What?' he asked, and the way he was slightly out of breath sent a tingle through her stomach. She merely smiled at him and shrugged, and he was suddenly struck by how lovely she looked, sitting in the bright sunlight in her light dress between the roses, like a fairytale picture. His voice was slightly husky when he spoke.  
'You look… I wish I could kiss you.'  
She leaned back invitingly. 'Why don't you?'  
'Because we might be seen.'  
She grinned. 'That didn't stop you ten minutes ago, when you nearly pushed me into the hedge.'  
He flushed. 'I shouldn't have done that. I got… a bit carried away. But it was very unprofessional. We can't risk getting caught.'  
She got up and slowly walked toward him. 'Let me tell you a secret,' she smiled. 'We're all alone here. Mary's resting. John's not home. Mr. Weston has gone up to bathe and dress before dinner.' She stood very close to him now, without touching him, and looked up at him with those eyes…  
'This is a very secluded corner of the garden,' she continued softly. 'Nobody would see…' Still not touching him, she stood on tiptoe, her face uplifted, her mouth tantalizingly close. The smell of her perfume mingled with the heavy scent of the roses until he felt quite intoxicated. He gently took her in his arms and brushed her lips with his. He meant to stop there, but somehow, he found himself laying her down on the warm grass and kissing her deeply, reveling in the feeling of her body pressed to his, her lips parting to let him in, her hands on his back, drawing him closer. He let his hand slide down her side, past the soft curve of a breast, over her hips, to find the hem of her dress and slip underneath, running up again to feel the smooth skin of her thigh. She sighed and pushed herself against him in a way that quite took his breath away. Suddenly, though, the sound of footsteps on the other side of the hedge made them both stiffen. They looked at each other in silence for a split second, then Jack was on his feet and held out his hand to hurriedly help her up. When Mr. Weston rounded the hedge a moment later, Phryne was sitting on the bench, perfectly composed, chatting airily to Jack, who was busily digging between the rose bushes.  
'There you are,' said Frederick Weston when he saw her. He was already dressed. 'I was looking for you. Dinner will be ready soon.'  
She flashed him her brightest smile. 'Oh, I must have lost track of the time. Thank you for alerting me, Mr. Weston.'  
He smiled back. 'Will you let me accompany you to the house?'  
He offered her his arm, and she took it, walking away without a backward glance. Jack watched them go. The moment they were out of sight, he dropped onto the bench with a sigh of relief, passing a hand over his eyes. One day, he thought, she would drive him mad. He should not have let himself go like that. But no matter how often he kept telling himself that, the voice of reason in his head was quite drowned out by a much stronger feeling of frustration and disappointment at the interruption.

* * *

When she came to his room that night, he did not turn her away.  
He had been waiting for her soft knock, knowing that it would come. He opened the door and tried to reason with her.  
'Please go back to bed. It's too much of a risk, we were nearly caught before.'  
'We were in a garden!' she argued back. 'How many people do you expect to wander into your bedroom tonight?'  
That was perfectly reasonable, of course, and to be honest, he didn't need much persuading. He drew her in, and quickly shut the door behind her, then pushed her against it to kiss her.  
She sighed softly in satisfaction. 'Thank goodness. I was frustrated to no end when we were interrupted this afternoon.'  
'You weren't the only one,' he murmured against the soft skin of her throat. A moment later, he had picked her up and was carrying her to the bed. It was a big four-poster, full of soft pillows and blankets, and when he put her down, he reflected that he actually preferred it this way, when he did not have to worry about being discovered. He took his time untying her dressing gown, while she looked up at him with soft dark eyes. When he leaned in and took a nipple in his mouth, she closed her eyes and moaned softly. He immediately stopped, and his voice was a low, warning rumble.  
'You're going to have to be quiet.'  
She looked a little displeased, but reluctantly nodded understanding. When he returned his attention to her nipple, she sharply drew in her breath and bit her lip, leaning her head back into the pillow. He explored her body with his hands and tongue, stopping every time she made a sound, until she remained quiet, and he had to read her pleasure in the movements of her body and the sound of her breath.  
When he entered her, a soft, involuntary cry escaped from her lips, and he quickly covered her mouth with a kiss.  
'Shh…' he whispered in her ear, and when he started moving inside her, she buried her head against his shoulder. He held her close, almost overwhelmed by a sudden rush of emotion, but when she wrapped one leg around him and lifted her hips, he was firmly pulled back into the physical reality of the situation as he lost himself in the rhythm, the synchronicity of movement they always found so easily, their bodies perfectly attuned to each other. Soon he began to feel the effect of not having seen her all week, and he had to make a real effort to maintain self-control as he held off stroke after stroke. When he felt her tense underneath him, he thrust in deep, and she bit his shoulder to keep from crying out. That firmly pushed him over the edge, and he whispered her name as he finally let go.

Several long moments later, they both fell back into the cushions, gasping slightly. When he had regained his breath, Jack gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. She nestled her head onto his chest with a contented sigh, and seemed ready to go to sleep. He gently kissed her to keep her awake.  
'You do know you're going to have to go back to your own room soon?'  
She made a plaintive little sound. 'But I want to stay with you. I've missed you.'  
'I want you to stay, too, but you know we can't do that. Just one more night… If everything goes well, I'll have my evidence tomorrow, and then we can both go home.'  
She opened her eyes. 'Speaking of getting evidence… What are you going to do about Frederick Weston hanging about the house?'  
He frowned. 'I'm not sure, really.'  
'If you want, I can tell Mary I'm not feeling up to the spa tomorrow, and then I can stay home and distract him for you.'  
He gave her a suspicious look. 'Distract him _how_, exactly?'  
She raised a suggestive eyebrow, but when he looked genuinely alarmed, she laughed. 'Come on Jack, by _talking _to him of course. I'll ask him to take a stroll around the garden with me.'  
'As long as you stay away from the rose garden,' he mumbled, and she grinned.  
'I knew you would need my help sooner or later,' she said smugly, playfully tracing a finger over his chest.  
He grunted. 'Well, the moment I have my evidence I'm taking you home.'  
'Far away from Mr. Weston you mean,' she smiled slyly. He chose to reply with dignified silence, but she laughed all the same and reached up to kiss his cheek. Then she moved her lips to his ear.  
'It's still early,' she whispered, and when she bit his earlobe she immediately had his full attention. 'Do you think we still have some time before I have to go back to my room?'  
He didn't answer, but turned to her and kissed her, pushing her back into the pillows.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Author's note_**_: Please remember that this story takes place in the 1920s. At that time, illnesses that are now deemed relatively harmless, like a cold or the flu, were considered to be quite serious, because they could develop complications, and not uncommonly resulted in fatalities. In 1918, for example, a flu pandemic rocked the world and killed more people than WWI. A vaccine was not available until 1944. Moreover, medicine to relieve symptoms like fever was hardly available and usually ineffective, which meant that the illness took a heavy toll on the body and recovery was usually slow. _

_Well, so far the history lesson :).__ This chapter might be a bit too dramatic. If so, I do apologize. But what is life (or a story) without a little drama now and then?_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

He was kneeling on the concrete next to the body when a cherry red car drove up and screeched to a halt at the end of the alley. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He should have known it wouldn't take her long.  
'Good morning,' he told her when she reached him. 'You got here quickly.'  
'Good morning to you, too, Jack. So, what do we have here?'  
'Male, late forties, multiple stab wounds to the stomach and chest. Are you alright?' She looked a little pale, and he noticed that her manner wasn't quite as brisk as usual. Strange, he thought. She wasn't usually squeamish when it came to blood and dead bodies.  
'Of course. Do you have any idea of…' She stopped to cough, and he watched her with thinly veiled concern, though he didn't say anything. She did not take kindly to him fussing over her, so he was careful not to. He'd tried it once. It had not ended well. He silently waited until she could continue.  
'… any idea of time of death?' she finished.  
'A pretty accurate idea, actually. We found a witness who saw someone running from this alley at about four in the morning.'  
'A witness? What exactly…' But this time she was quite overcome with coughing, and couldn't talk for several minutes. By then, Jack didn't care about hiding it anymore: he was worried and it showed.  
'Phryne, hadn't you better go home?'  
'Why?'  
He frowned. 'Because you're not feeling well.'  
'Nonsense Jack, I feel fine.' Her words were quite belied, however, by another fit of coughing. He waited patiently for it to pass, then raised an eyebrow.  
'You were saying?'  
'It's just a bit of a cough. Now about this witness of yours…'  
He sighed, but started to explain what the witness had told them. He didn't feel up to a battle of wills this early in the morning; if she wanted to be stubborn about it, he wasn't about to argue with her. Nevertheless, he kept shooting her covert glances from under the brim of his hat as she walked around the body, examining it.  
'Did you find the murder weapon?'  
'No. Not yet, at least. It might be somewhere around here, but we haven't had time to look properly.' He saw her draw her coat closer around her shoulders, shivering even though it wasn't cold. She kneeled next to the body to examine it. 'This wasn't a very smooth attack. He was stabbed at least…' she counted, '… six times, mostly in non-vital places. Seems like a crime of passion to me.' When she straightened, she suddenly seemed dizzy and put a hand on Jack's shoulder for support. He took her by the elbow, both to steady her and to keep her from turning away.  
'Phryne,' he said seriously. 'You're sick. You should go home and rest.'  
She shook herself loose. 'I'm not sick, Jack. I'm never sick.'  
'Look at yourself,' he said impatiently. 'You're clearly not well!'  
'Are you a doctor now?'  
'No, but…'  
'Then I'm not sick.' She walked away to examine the crime scene, and he went after her, silently cursing her stubbornness. He caught her and turned her to face him, encountering alarmingly little resistance. And she was so pale. A crease of worry appeared between his eyebrows, and he decided he should be firm, for her own good.  
'Go home immediately and get some rest. That's an order.'  
She tilted her chin defiantly. 'I'm not Hugh, you can't order me around.'  
'No, but this is my crime scene, and I decide who can be here and who can't. And right now, you can't.'  
'Jack!'  
'Look,' his tone softened. 'I would take you home myself, but I can't leave here just now. Just go home, go to bed, and I'll come and see you later. As soon as I can. Please.'  
She crossed her arms and didn't move. He drew himself up.  
'Do I need to have your removed from my crime scene, Miss Fisher?'  
'Oh, _honestly._' She flashed him a reproachful look before turning on her heel and walking away huffily. He watched her go and sighed. Only nine in the morning, and he was already feeling tired. Why did she have to make everything into such a struggle? But when he saw her lean against her car for a moment, coughing, his worried frown returned, and he resolved to go and check on her as soon as he had a chance.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon before he could get away from the station. He drove to Miss Fisher's house and rang the doorbell. When Mr. Butler answered it, he assumed that Phryne would be in bed, but when he walked into the hallway, he glanced right and saw her curled up in a chair with a book. He strode into the parlor.  
'Why aren't you in bed?'  
She looked up at him with her best cheerful expression. 'Jack! Actually, I feel _much _better already.'  
She did not look better. He noticed that she was flushed, and her eyes were too bright. Kneeling beside her chair, he kissed her forehead, then told her very seriously, 'Phryne, you have a fever. You're really ill. You should be in bed.'  
She rolled her eyes at him. 'I'll be terribly bored there. Besides, I don't feel all that bad, I'm sure you're exaggerating.' She abruptly got up out of the chair to put her book back on the shelf, but the moment she was up, she blanched and staggered. He was only just in time to catch her as she fell, and she didn't respond when he urgently called her name. Finally, he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the parlor, shouting at Mr. Butler to call a doctor. He carried her up the stairs, muttering under his breath about people who were too obstinate to take advice, and didn't know when enough was enough. But when he carefully put her down on the bed and covered her with a blanket, he looked at her still face, and his bad temper was replaced with worry. She was so pale her skin was almost translucent. He sat next to her on the bed and caressed the side of her face, gently trying to rouse her.  
'Phryne? Phryne, can you hear me?'  
Finally, her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked at him with a dazed expression.  
'Jack? What happened?'  
'You fainted.'  
That seemed to wake her up properly. She looked at him, horrified.  
'What? No, I don't faint! Fainting is for delicate little ladies.'  
He raised an eyebrow, amused. 'You're a delicate little lady, then.'  
Her eyes narrowed, and there was nothing hazy in the look she gave him now. 'Call me that again and I'll never speak to you again.'  
He grinned, relieved to see that she seemed to be regaining her strength, and that there was some fight in her yet. But then she fell back into the pillows, and the light in her eyes seemed to go out. He quickly leaned in closer again.  
'Jack?' Her voice was very small.  
'Yes?' The crease had reappeared between his eyebrows.  
'I think I might not be entirely well.'  
'Really? What was your first clue?'  
She gave him a weak smile. 'Fine. Do you want me to say it?'  
'Please. I may never get this chance again.'  
'You were right.'  
He wanted to tease her, but suddenly he didn't care, didn't care at all about being right, she looked so vulnerable lying there, starkly white against the dark red of the satin pillows. 'I wish I wasn't.'  
She tried to smile reassuringly, but suddenly she sat up and started coughing violently. He held her as the coughs racked her body, and afterwards, she leaned against him, exhausted and shivering.A feeling of alarm started to spread through him. How ill was she?

When he got her settled back into the pillows, the clunk of hurried footsteps on the stairs announced Mac, and a moment later she came rushing into the room.  
'What's wrong?' she asked, frowning as she looked down at Phryne, lying in bed with her eyes closed.  
'She started coughing this morning. She refused to go to bed, though, and when she got up too suddenly just now, she fainted.'  
Mac rolled her eyes. 'Typical.'  
'What, the fainting?'  
'No, the refusing to take care of herself when people tell her to.'  
'Oh. Yes, quite. But what's wrong with her?'  
'I can't tell you that before I've examined her. Could you wait outside, please, Inspector?'  
Phryne opened her eyes. 'He can stay, Mac, I don't mind.'  
'Alright.' She set about taking Phryne's pulse and temperature, then she listened to her lungs and heart. Jack paced the room near the door as the two women talked together softly. Then Mac got up and motioned Jack to follow her. He shot a quick look back at Phryne, who seemed to be resting, and followed Mac out of the room. He shut the door behind them, then swallowed at the unusually somber expression on Mac's face.  
'How bad is it? Is it just a cold, or…' he managed, trying to ignore the feeling of gathering dread in his stomach.  
Mac looked up at him. 'It's influenza. Now don't look so worried, Inspector, she'll probably be fine.'  
'Probably?' He did not like probably.  
'Well, it's an unpredictable illness. But she's healthy and strong. She should be alright. Now, I need to warn you, though. It's going to get worse before it gets better. Her fever is high already and probably won't go down for several hours. She needs to drink lots of fluids – no alcohol! – and rest. I'll tell Miss Williams and Mr. Butler.'  
'Isn't there anything you can do?'  
'I've given her something, but her body will just need to fight it off. If her fever hasn't broken by the morning, call me again.'  
She gave him a reassuring pat on the arm, then disappeared down the stairs to give her instructions to Dot and Mr. Butler. Jack slowly turned and entered the bedroom again.  
Phryne opened her eyes as he pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down.  
'What did Mac say? Am I to be a good girl and stay in bed?'  
'No,' he said. 'I'm to take you dancing tonight.'  
She laughed, but that made her cough again. It passed quickly this time, though, and she lay back to look at him.  
'You should go home.'  
'No, I don't think so.'  
'You don't have to stay, you know.'  
'I know.'  
'Dot will take care of me.'  
'I'm sure Miss Williams would make an admirable nurse.'  
She seemed amused. 'But you think you will be better?'  
'I'm sure I will be better.'  
'Jack…'  
'You need to rest.'  
She fell quiet, not moving her eyes from his face. They sat together for a moment, until a soft knock on the door made Jack look up. Dot was standing there, looking very worried. He quickly went over and ushered her out again.  
'You had better stay out here, Miss Williams. You know influenza is contagious.'  
She hesitated. 'Then what about you, Inspector?'  
'Don't worry about me. But you are of much more use to Phryne if you stay healthy. I'll take care of her.'  
'Are you sure you wouldn't rather go home?'  
'I'm not leaving her,' he stated curtly.  
Dot nodded, and Jack could see that he had risen in her esteem. Whispering that she would make them some tea, Dot went back downstairs.

* * *

She fell asleep holding his hand. He sat next to the bed in the chair, motionless so as not to disturb her, while observing her closely for any signs of the worsening symptoms Mac had predicted. Evening fell, and Mr. Butler came in to light the lamps and bring him some dinner, which he left untouched. He kept watching her, until he noticed that her sleep was becoming troubled. She seemed uncomfortable, and after a while she woke and looked around with large, unfocused eyes, bright with fever.  
'Jack?' Her voice was a whisper.  
'I'm right here. Try to drink some water.'  
He helped her up and supported her shoulders as she sipped water from a cup. He felt her forehead. The skin was very hot to the touch. He went out to ask Dot for a basin of cold water, then sat down next to her again and bathed her forehead with a soft cloth while she looked up at him listlessly. She studied his face for a long time, before she suddenly spoke.  
'You're wonderful, do you know that? I don't tell you that often enough, but it's true.'  
The corners of his mouth tugged down. 'That's the fever talking.'  
'I don't think so.' She was silent for a moment. 'Jack?'  
'Yes?'  
'Thank you for staying with me.'  
She said it with such simplicity that it filled him with a sudden, aching tenderness. He leaned in to kiss her forehead.  
'Of course, my darling.'  
She looked at him in surprise. 'You've never called me that before.'  
He knew he hadn't. It was alright for her to call him 'darling' in that light-hearted tone of hers, but he usually shied away from terms of endearment as being too sentimental. Besides, after years of calling her 'Miss Fisher', the use of her first name felt quite intimate enough. Only now it had not seemed sufficient to express what he was feeling. He grimaced.  
'Special circumstances.'  
She gave him a soft look. 'I don't mind.'  
It suddenly struck him that she looked very forlorn, alone in the big bed. So he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the mattress next to her, leaning against the headboard so she could lie in his arms. She settled her head against his chest with such a trusting, childlike gesture that it quite broke his heart. His throat was tight as he gently stroked her hair and shoulder until she fell into an uneasy sleep, leaving him alone with his thoughts. They weren't very good company.

It was a bad night. When she slept, her fevered dreams made her toss and turn, and once she cried. He held her, helpless, until his soothing voice seemed to reach her and she calmed down again. When she woke, she hardly seemed to recognize him. He did what little he could to make her comfortable, to soothe her and comfort her, but most of the time all he could do was control his own feeling of rising panic. It was hard for him to see her like this, she who was always so strong, so independent, so perfectly composed. The contrast was all the greater now, and it made him realize that she wasn't as invulnerable as she liked to appear. Try as he might, he could not keep away the thoughts of what would happen if the illness took its worst course, claiming another life as it had claimed so many. A world without Phryne loomed before him in the early hours of the morning, cold and lonely, and he suddenly realized just how much happiness and Phryne had become synonymous to him in the last few months. He looked down at her for a long time, desperately willing her to get better.  
Right before dawn the fever reached a pitch, and Jack didn't need to be a doctor to know that this was a critical point. Either the fever would break soon, or it wouldn't. He wasn't sure whether she was in a state of troubled sleep or mild delirium when she suddenly opened her eyes and looked straight at him for the first time in many hours. The look she gave him was so calm and clear that he breathed a sigh of relief, before he noticed that the fever was smoldering beneath the brightness of her eyes and her voice was a whisper through cracked lips.  
'Jack?'  
'I'm right here.'  
He took her hand and she returned the pressure feebly, giving him a weak smile. 'I love you, Jack. I love you so much. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was drifting, and you anchored me.'  
'Shh. You should rest,' he whispered. He knew very well that this little speech of hers was caused by her fever, and it hurt him to hear her say things she would never say to him in other circumstances. He had accepted that about her, had accepted that he should not expect grand declarations of love, or even small declarations of love, but it hurt nonetheless to hear her utter them now, knowing that he should not believe what she was saying. But she wouldn't stay quiet. She kept looking up at him with that deceptively clear gaze, and he wanted so badly to believe for just a moment…  
'Jack, will you stay with me?'  
'Always,' he whispered, in spite of himself.  
She smiled up at him so softly he felt something clench in his chest.  
'Always,' she repeated. 'Because we belong together.'  
'We do.'  
'I love you, Jack.'  
He couldn't answer, just kissed her forehead so she wouldn't see his face. _Stop it_, he thought. _Don't play with me, Miss Fisher._ But he knew she couldn't help it.  
'I love you, too,' he finally whispered against her hair, and a moment later he noticed that she had slipped back into sleep, but she was no longer tossing feverishly. He felt her forehead. The fever had broken. He closed his eyes in relief, leaning back against the headboard, exhausted both mentally and physically. When he was sure she was sleeping soundly, he settled down next to her, and allowed his own tiredness to overtake him.

* * *

When he woke several hours later, sunlight filled the room, and Phryne was beside him, her even breathing and serene expression reassuring him that the worst was over. He got up without waking her, and slipped out of the room to get some tea downstairs. The whole household was assembled in the kitchen, and turned anxious eyes on him as he entered. He nodded at them.  
'She'll be fine. I think the worst is behind us now. She's sleeping.'  
Sighs of relief sounded around the room, and gradually the mood lightened as Mr. Butler made breakfast for everyone and Dot fussed over the Inspector's rumpled clothes. Bert and Cec accepted some breakfast and then went out again. After a hot cup of tea and some sandwiches, Jack felt like himself again. The night now seemed like an old nightmare, and he was finally able to acknowledge that he could let go of his fear and feel carefully optimistic again. He firmly pushed thoughts of their nocturnal conversation out of his mind and went back upstairs with a cup of tea, smiling as he entered the room where Phryne was still sleeping. He settled himself in the chair next to the bed and waited for her to wake up.  
When she opened her eyes, he could immediately see that the last traces of the fever had left her. She was very weak, but her mind was clear again.  
'Jack?'  
'I'm right here.'  
'That's very sweet of you. But wouldn't you rather go home?'  
'No.'  
She stirred and crinkled her nose. 'I'm sweaty.'  
'That's good. It means the fever is leaving your body.'  
'I don't like you to see me like this.'  
'I don't care. I'm just glad you're feeling better.'  
'Still…' she moved uncomfortably beneath the sheets. 'I'd like to take a bath.'  
But it was soon clear that she was still much too weak. Even sitting up to sip some water exhausted her, though she tried not to show it and refused to let Jack help her. He sighed in resignation. They were back to normal, then.  
But an idea suddenly occurred to him, and he disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, she heard the sound of running water, and she frowned at him when he reentered the bedroom.  
'Look, I don't like admitting this, but I don't think I'm strong enough yet to walk over there and bathe myself.'  
'No matter,' he said, and folded back the sheets. He undressed her like a child, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. When he lowered her in the warm water, she sighed contentedly and leaned her head back against the side of the tub.  
'Better?' he asked, and she smiled at him.  
'Much.'  
He went out for a moment to ask Dot to change the sheets on the bed, then he came back, closed the door to the bathroom, and took a washcloth and a piece of soap. She looked at him with a ghost of her usual amused smile.  
'You're not seriously going to bathe me?'  
'Watch me.'  
He took her arm, and she didn't resist, just kept looking at him with that curious, half-mocking smile. But when he ran the soft cloth up her arm, she sighed with pleasure and closed her eyes, giving in to her tiredness and allowing him to take care of her. Jack decided he should thoroughly enjoy the experience, because this would probably never happen again. So he took his time, running the cloth over her skin slowly, tenderly, careful not to miss an inch. When he reached her breasts, a smile appeared on her lips, though she didn't open her eyes.  
'This feels like a wasted opportunity, to be honest,' she murmured.  
He drew down the corners of his mouth. This was a good sign. 'I'll be happy to repeat this once you're feeling better,' he replied.  
'Good.'

Afterwards, he wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to the bed. She looked very tired now, and gratefully nestled in the clean sheets, ready to go back to sleep. She looked so very sweet and vulnerable, he reflected, with a rush of tenderness. When he settled himself in the chair to watch over her as she slept, she opened her eyes once more to look at him.  
'Jack? Thank you for doing this. I know you didn't have to.'  
He looked down at her with a smile and said unthinkingly, 'Well, in sickness and in health…'  
He immediately realized that he had said something wrong when her eyes opened wide and she froze.  
'I… I mean… no, I didn't mean…,' he stuttered, wishing furiously that he could take it back, because she was giving him a very scared look. 'It's just an expression…'  
'Yes…' she said, slowly regaining her composure. 'Yes, of course it is.'  
She managed a smile, and they fell silent, both caught up in their own thoughts.  
Jack felt a little sad. It was very discouraging that she still panicked this much at the slightest hint of commitment after all these months. He told himself that it was just Phryne, that he didn't need verbal assurances of affection when she showed him every day how much she cared. Just the fact that they had been in a happy, monogamous relationship for months was an extraordinary feat. He knew she loved him. Didn't she?  
'Phryne?' he couldn't stop himself from asking.  
She turned her head to look at him.  
'Do you remember what you said last night?'  
The blank look on her face told him clearly enough, and he tried not to feel too hurt. It was the fever after all, just like he had suspected.  
'What did I say?'  
'Nothing. You were delirious, that's all.'  
She raised her eyebrows. 'Oh, I hope I didn't say anything too compromising!'  
He forced a smile. 'No. No, of course not.'  
Soon afterwards she drifted off to sleep, and Jack sat looking at her, wondering vaguely if she would ever be able to tell him how she really felt, and wondering if he really needed to hear it.

* * *

He stayed constantly at her side during the next few days of her recovery. He had gotten someone to cover for him at the station, since he didn't want to leave her alone. That wasn't because he was still worried, but rather because he knew very well that she would be up and about in no time if he left her to her own devices. Dot was not nearly strong-willed enough to make Phryne do something she didn't feel like doing, so Jack and Phryne spent several days bickering amiably over what she was and was not allowed to do. Mac was in and out several times a day to check in on Phryne and to provide Jack with moral support, saying that she fully approved of his treatment of the patient. Phryne rolled her eyes, but both Jack and Mac were firm.  
After a few days, Jack carried her down to the parlor for a few hours so she could have a change of scenery, and that greatly improved her spirits. When he put her down on the bed again that afternoon, she took hold of his collar and looked up at him with an all too familiar mischievous glint in her eye. He obeyed the pressure of her hand automatically and lay down next to her, propping himself up on an elbow with an amused smile.  
'What are you thinking?'  
'That I'm feeling so much better.'  
'I'm not falling for that. Mac said you shouldn't exert yourself for another couple of days.'  
'I'm sure this wouldn't fall under the heading of 'exertion'.'  
'The way you do it, I'm sure it would.'  
'I'll be very calm and quiet.'  
'You are physically incapable of that.'  
But she moved closer to kiss his neck, and he groaned softly.  
'Come on, Jack,' she whispered persuasively.  
He pushed her away. 'You're not drawing me in like that. You need to rest.'  
'But I _am _resting! Look at me, in bed, resting. I'm lying down and everything.'  
He sat up to get away from temptation, but a light hand running down his spine made him shiver, and he simply couldn't help smiling. He composed himself and pushed her hand away.  
'Stop that.'  
She sat up in a fluent movement, and he noticed that she really did seem completely healthy again. He felt his resistance crumble… When she kissed him, he kissed her back, and she responded enthusiastically by throwing her arms around him and running her hands through his hair. He pulled back.  
'You're not resting,' he said sternly, and was secretly amused to see her lie back down immediately.  
'I am, really, I am.' She looked up at him playfully, a small smile on her lips.  
'Well, let's see about that.' He leaned over her teasingly, slowly drawing closer until his face was only inches from hers. He saw her squirm slightly with wanting to bridge the gap, but she obediently stayed down in the pillows, biting her lip and giving him a look full of longing and anticipation.  
He loved that she obeyed him so readily, though he was perfectly aware of the fact that she only did it because she was so inclined at the moment, and that it was just another game to her.  
'Are you sure this won't tire you?' he asked in a low voice.  
'Quite sure,' she whispered back, eyes sparkling.  
He bent his head to kiss her neck, and she was careful to stay completely still as she sighed softly.  
He slowly moved down to kiss her chest, and as he opened her robe, he suddenly realized that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. He brushed a nipple and it hardened immediately under his touch. When he took it in his mouth, she moaned, and for a moment, he was too distracted to notice that she had her hands in his hair again. Then he stopped and raised an eyebrow.  
'Oh, _come on_,' she grumbled, pretending to be annoyed with him, but he knew she rather liked the game. She lowered her arms again and tangled her fingers in the sheets instead as he moved further down, kissing her stomach, then the inside of her thighs. He could feel her tremble in anticipation as he inched his way higher up her thigh, and he knew perfectly well how hard it was for her not to move. He couldn't resist teasing her one more time.  
'You know, I'm afraid this might be too much exertion for you after all. Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow.'  
'Oh, don't you dare!' She raised her head, an expression of indignation on her face. 'I've been resting perfectly quietly! Sometimes you're so…'  
But he never found out what he was, because at that moment he pressed his mouth against her, and her sentence ended in a moan as she fell back and surrendered. He took his time exploring her with his tongue, running through the folds and enjoying her taste before he moved upwards and found the right place. She arched her back and cried out softly as he settled to a rhythm exactly the way she liked it. He had come to know her so well, and very soon her breathing quickened, her moans came faster, and she started quivering. Now, he knew, and as he entered her with two fingers, her whole body tensed and she threw back her head as she gripped the sheets. He kept up the rhythm, and a moment later she gasped and cried out as her body shocked in release.

She fell back into the pillows, and he drew back, noticing with an anxious frown that she did seem more out of breath than usual. He gently touched her cheek and she opened her eyes to look at him.  
'Are you alright?'  
'Yes,' she murmured sensuously, drawing him closer by his collar. 'I want to feel you,' she whispered.  
'Are you sure you're not too tired? Maybe later…'  
She smiled up at him. 'Now. Please…'  
Who was he to resist her? He kissed her, then quickly undressed and took her in his arms. He held her gently, keeping a tight rein on his own desire so he would not rush her. When he entered her, all thought was momentarily driven from his mind as a wave of pleasure swept through him, and she sighed in satisfaction as she held him close, skin to skin, moving together until they both cried out once more.

She nestled close to him afterwards, caressing his arm and his chest, and he felt perfectly happy lying beside her, one arm protectively around her shoulders. They rested for a while, talking softly, then Jack got up to get her something to drink. He was just buttoning up his trousers when the door flew open and Mac marched in, as she always did, without knocking. Jack immediately turned flaming red and grabbed his shirt off the floor, but there was no mistaking the situation. Mac raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to Phryne.  
'All better, I see.'  
Phryne grinned at her friend, supremely unconcerned by the fact that she was naked underneath the sheets.  
'I'd say so, yes.'  
Mac snorted, but if Jack hadn't been so preoccupied with buttoning his shirt, he would have noticed that she was suppressing a smile. He wasn't the only one who had been worried about Phryne.  
'If you're well enough to do… this… then you're well enough to get up and go downstairs,' she said drily.  
Phryne smiled delightedly. 'Did you hear that, Jack?'  
'I heard,' he mumbled, still blushing furiously as he retrieved his tie from the floor.  
'Though I'd put some clothes on before you leave the room,' Mac advised.  
'I'll be sure to keep that in mind,' Phryne grinned.  
'I think I'll go and leave you two to it,' Mac said. 'Looks like my timing wasn't ideal.'  
'Could've been worse,' Jack muttered, and Phryne laughed.  
Mac took her leave and Phryne immediately got out of bed. Without bothering to put on her dressing gown, she went and embraced Jack, and he gasped slightly as she pressed her naked body against him. Standing on tiptoe, her arms around his neck, she smiled up at him.  
'You heard the doctor, Inspector. No more ordering me around now.'  
'Too bad. I was quite enjoying myself.'  
She gave him an amused look. 'I'm sure you were.'  
He ran his hand down her bare back. 'So… now that you're well again, what do you feel like doing?'  
Her eyes sparkled. 'Oh… let's go dancing!'  
He drew back, alarmed. 'Really?'  
'You're not going to refuse me the pleasure of your company after I've been so ill and can finally go out again?' she asked him innocently.  
'Er… I… no, of course not,' he gave in reluctantly.  
She looked at him for a moment, then a big smile lit up her face. 'Oh darling, I'm just teasing you. But that expression is priceless.'  
And she pushed him back onto the bed and kissed him.


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's note_: because I couldn't get that image of Jack out of my head :)

Enjoy!

* * *

They were sitting together at breakfast one day when Phryne looked at him from the corner of her eye and mentioned casually, 'You know, it's my birthday soon.'  
He sighed. 'Don't remind me.'  
'What? You don't like birthdays?'  
'I have no idea what I should get you for a present. You have everything.'  
'You don't have to get me anything.'  
'That doesn't sound right.'  
'Really,' she said innocently, 'I want nothing at all.'  
He noticed the tone. 'Except…?'  
'Except nothing!'  
He raised an eyebrow.  
'Well… maybe there's one little thing…'  
'Here we go.'  
'I just want you to do something for me. It's not at all difficult.'  
'What is it?'  
She looked at him playfully. 'Promise you'll do it?'  
'Before I've heard what it is? Not in a million years. Who knows what you'll make me do.'  
'Jack! Don't you trust me?'  
He smiled at her amiably. 'Not even a little bit.'  
She seemed rather pleased. 'Hmm. Very wise, I'm sure.'  
'So?'  
'Well, I would like to do something fun for my birthday…'  
'Why do I have a bad feeling about this?'  
'… and I had the most marvelous idea!'  
He braced himself. 'Let's hear it.'  
'I want a fancy dress party,' she said, eyes sparkling.  
'Oh God,' he sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes with a pained expression.  
'We'll all dress up – it will be a fabulous.'  
'Look, Phryne, I don't look good in costume.'  
She looked at him appreciatively. 'I'm sure you'd look good in anything, Inspector.'  
'You'd think that, but no.'  
'Please, Jack?' she wheedled, looking up at him with big eyes. 'It's the only thing I want for my birthday.'  
'Oh, that's not fair.'  
'You know…' She was leaning close now, her head tilted in that way she had. 'You owe me a Roman soldier.'  
'What do you mean?'  
'Don't you remember? At cousin Guy's wedding. I _almost _had you dressed as Mark Anthony.'  
'Oh. Right. That was close.'  
'So you owe me a Mark Anthony, Inspector.'  
'You know, I'm not sure that big feathered helmets are really my style.'  
'I think you would look very dashing.'  
'Forget it, Miss Fisher.'  
'Don't be such a spoilsport, Jack! I'm having the party, whether you like it or not.'  
'And I'll be there. Properly dressed in a suit, whether you like it or not.'  
'Fine,' she said huffily. 'If you insist on being boring, there's simply no arguing with you.'  
And she walked away, not noticing that the corners of his mouth were pulling down ever so slightly.

* * *

Two weeks passed until Phryne's birthday, weeks in which she was busy planning the party and in which not a day went by without her trying to convince Jack to wear a costume. She sprung it on him over breakfast, during investigations, when they were in bed together. He finally put his foot down when she started asking Collins which costume he thought would suit Jack best: a gladiator or Hercules.  
He firmly steered her away from his flustered constable, into his office. He shut the door behind them.  
'Will you stop badgering me about this damned costume? And leave Collins out of this.'  
'Come on, Jack, I must be able to entice you with _something_.'  
'Don't count on it. I simply don't like costumes. They make me feel ridiculous. Can't you just accept that?'  
She chose to ignore him. 'How about a pirate?'  
He snorted. 'I'm not sure I have the necessary swagger.'  
'A Roman senator, then? Quite dignified, I'd think.'  
'I'm not walking around in a sheet.'  
'It's a toga, Jack!'  
'Still no.'  
She suddenly looked up at him as if a great idea had occurred to her. 'I know! Count Dracula. Very fancy. You'd just need a cape.'  
He did not even deign to respond this time, merely crossed his arms and looked at her impassively. She gave him a disgruntled look. 'Just when I thought you'd loosened up a bit in the last few months.'  
'A man can't abandon all of his principles, Miss Fisher. This is where I draw the line.'  
'At costumes?'  
'I don't like dressing up. But feel free to dress up yourself. I'm sure whatever outfit you choose will look great on you.'  
'Jack…'  
But he ushered her out of the door before she could say anything else, and she left feeling a little confused. She wasn't sure why her powers of persuasion had suddenly failed her, and she was a little disappointed that he wouldn't be dressed up for her party, but she had to admit to herself that she liked him all determined. She sighed. If only he could have been all determined in a gladiator outfit. That would have been perfection.

* * *

The day of the party arrived. Most of the furniture had been cleared away to make room for the guests, copious amounts of champagne had been delivered, and at least half of Melbourne's fashionable society were rumored to make an appearance. Speculation ran high as to how various people would be dressed, and many an uninvited lady sat at home sulking because they would be denied the pleasure of seeing Mr. Soandso in a dashing costume, and the equally great pleasure of gossiping about Miss X's much too revealing outfit.  
Phryne looked forward to her party. She had had a beautiful little black dress made so she could dress up as a chorus girl. It was a loose-fitting, sparkly thing with a plunging neckline and showing rather a lot of leg, and she usually had too much class to wear such things. That was why, she reflected with a satisfied smile, parties like these were the perfect opportunity to wear something out of the ordinary. She couldn't wait to show it off. The only thing that marred her anticipatory excitement was her slight worry that Jack would not have a good time. But whenever that thought occurred to her, she shrugged it off: after all, it was not her responsibility to make sure that he enjoyed himself.

At eight o'clock, the first guests started to arrive, in elaborate costumes and a generally elated mood. It was clear that everyone had been determined to impress, and the house was soon filled with feathers, sparkling jewelry, and a heavy cloud of perfume. Refreshments were served in the dining room, while the floor had been cleared in the parlor. The music was excellent and the champagne even better, so it wasn't long before the dancing started, and Phryne enjoyed herself tremendously, getting asked to dance by a succession of handsome knights, dashing outlaws and even the occasional pirate. It wasn't until the last guests had arrived that she realized that Jack was not in the crowd. She excused herself to the toreador she was dancing with, and moved to the edge of the room, frowning slightly. She knew Jack disliked crowds and rowdy parties, but he wouldn't really consider not showing up on her birthday, would he? Then she suddenly heard a soft knock on the door, and went to open it, smiling. Of course he would be there, 'perfectly disguised as a police inspector' as he had said once before. She opened the door, and her mouth fell open.  
Leaning against the door jamb with a slight smile was Jack, dressed immaculately in a white captain's uniform that made him look even more handsome than usual. Phryne could only stare at him, until he straightened and tipped his cap to her with a faintly amused look in his eyes.  
'Happy birthday, Miss Fisher.'  
'It certainly is _now_,' she exclaimed in astonished delight. 'Where did you get that uniform?'  
'I borrowed it from a friend who captains a merchant ship. I had a feeling you might like it.'  
She bit her lip. 'God, yes. Why haven't I seen this before?'  
He seemed a little confused. 'I haven't had any occasion to borrow it before.'  
She flashed him a saucy smile. 'Oh, I could have thought of ample occasion…'  
He cleared his throat and stepped over the threshold, looking her over from head to toe. An amused smile appeared on his face.  
'So, what's your excuse for wearing this indecently short dress?'  
She twirled for him, sequins flashing, beads clicking softly.  
'Do you like it?'  
'Mmm,' he murmured noncommittally, but the truth was that he actually liked the dress very much. It was revealing enough to be a little risqué, but not so revealing as to cross the line to vulgar.  
'I'm a chorus girl,' she explained.  
'In that case, I suppose I should be grateful it's nothing worse.' He reflected silently on the costumes chorus girls wore nowadays, hardly more than bathing suits, really, and he was devoutly thankful that she had not taken this opportunity to thoroughly scandalize him once and for all.  
Meanwhile, she was quite distracted by his uniform, running a hand over his white sleeve, her lips slightly parted as she looked him over.  
'You look _very _handsome, you know,' she purred.  
He knew that look. He knew that tone. 'Guests,' he warned her, but she didn't care. A moment later, her arms were around his neck and she kissed him full on the mouth. Immediately, a number of wolf whistles sounded from the parlor and the dining room, and Jack disengaged himself, feeling a little hot around the collar. Phryne merely smiled unconcernedly, and soon everyone had turned back to their dance partners, their glasses of champagne, leaving the two of them the relative privacy of the hallway. Standing on tiptoe and leaning in against him, Phryne brought her mouth close to his ear.  
'Let's go upstairs,' she murmured in her most seductive voice.  
He raised an eyebrow. 'Not to burst your bubble, but you have a house full of people.'  
'They won't notice if we're gone for a moment.'  
'It's _your_ party!'  
'Exactly. It's my birthday, so I can do what I like.'  
He looked at her, amused. 'Yes, but I'm quite sure you need my cooperation for this.'  
'Hmm, good point. But what did you expect if you turned up like this? A girl can only stand so much, you know,' she said reprovingly.  
He smiled. 'Well, why don't we make a deal? You take care to behave tonight, and I'll make it up to you.'  
She was interested. 'How, exactly?'  
He drew her closer and whispered something in her ear. When he stepped back, her eyes were sparkling.  
'Promise?' she asked teasingly.  
He raised an eyebrow at her, and answered, 'Twice.'  
She bit her lip, smiling, as she put a hand on his chest, her fingers playing with the gleaming buttons of his coat. 'Well… that's an offer I can't refuse.'  
'So do we have a deal?'  
She looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes. 'Aye, aye, Captain.'  
He suppressed a smile. 'Good. Now let's go. People are starting to stare.'  
She seemed to become aware of her surroundings again, and immediately returned to her usual light manner. 'Yes, let's go. I want to show you off.'

She put her arm through his and led him into the parlor. He looked down at her as she was walking by his side, and liked the contrast between her black dress and his white uniform. They looked good together, he realized, their costumes matching nicely. The room was full of people in various states of intoxication, and Phryne took him from one smiling face to the next, introducing him to some of the most fashionable people in town, all of whose names he promptly forgot. Luckily, there were also some familiar faces, like Dr. Macmillan (who had point-blank refused to dress up), and other friends of Phryne's that he had met during their months together. He was greeted warmly by the two couples they had once spent an evening in a jazz club with, and was thinking of staying with them to talk for a while, when he saw that their other friend, a pretty young woman named Kate, had come with them. He excused himself and made straight for the champagne, giving Kate a wide berth and dragging Phryne with him. She smiled at him knowingly: Kate had shown rather a lot of interest in Jack that night at the jazz club, and Phryne knew very well that her attentions had made him feel uncomfortable. Once Jack had a glass of champagne in his hand, he maneuvered to the side of the room and seemed happy to stay there for a while.  
'You should go dance,' he urged Phryne. 'I don't mind.'  
She considered for a moment if she would ask him to accompany her, but she knew he didn't like to dance, especially with so many people watching, so she kissed him and disappeared into the throng. He watched her go, a crooked smile on his face as he leant against the wall and relaxed. He knew he'd have her all to himself later that night, and was glad she was enjoying herself in the meantime. For several long moments, he watched her laugh and dance, unable to take his eyes off her. Then he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was surrounded by young women in various alluring costumes, all looking up at him admiringly. He blinked. What was happening? It soon became clear that they were very keen on learning more about this handsome, unknown man who had suddenly appeared and was all the more interesting and mysterious for his aloofness. They proved very difficult to shake, and Jack was a little shocked at how brazen they were in showing their interest in him. Luckily his two-year professional partnership with Miss Fisher had made him something of an expert in parrying flirtatious remarks and ignoring even the most obvious innuendos without batting an eye. So he was pleasant and polite, but after a while it became clear that he was impervious to their charms, and the girls left him, one by one, to look for easier prey. When he was alone again, Phryne suddenly appeared at his side, smiling.  
'Looks like you had quite the crowd of admirers, Captain,' she teased him.  
He ignored her. 'Having a good time?'  
'Marvelous,' she beamed. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, took a sip of his champagne, then was whisked away by yet another dance partner. Jack snorted, thinking that she was one to talk about a crowd of admirers, but secretly he was quite proud. She was easily the most attractive woman in the room, he thought, not just beautiful, but sparkling, sensual, drawing all eyes to her as she moved fluently to the music. For about the millionth time in the last couple of months, the thought crossed his mind that he couldn't believe his luck.

Phryne was dancing, transitioning effortlessly from one melody to the next, from one dance partner to another. She was having a great time, drinking rather a lot of champagne, and after a while, everything began to blur together slightly in a whirl of movement and color. But every so often, her eyes were drawn to a certain corner of the room, and she would invariably meet Jack's gaze, smoldering softly from underneath the brim of his cap. He was the only still point in this swirling sea of people, a fixed figure in the chaos, a little rigid maybe, a little unyielding, but strong, dependable, and there. She liked that about him. As the evening progressed, she found herself looking his way increasingly often, each time struck by how handsome he looked in his white uniform as he casually leaned against the wall, observing the proceedings with a look of detached amusement, or talking to this or that acquaintance. Finally she found herself wishing that the last of the guests would leave so she could be alone with him. She had behaved splendidly, she felt, not doing anything inappropriate to him all evening, despite the very great temptation the uniform posed, and she was increasingly eager to remove temptation by getting that uniform off as soon as possible.  
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Cec and Bert took home the last of the guests who were too drunk to stand, and Phryne closed the door behind them with a smile, feeling a slight hum of anticipation in her stomach. She turned, and found him in the doorway to the parlor, looking pleased that they were alone. He sauntered over to her, hands in his pockets.  
'Looks like you had a good time. Do you want to go to bed? Are you tired?'  
'Yes, yes and no,' she smiled, and when he encircled her in his arms, she leaned against him and kissed him. She noticed how starkly her black dress contrasted with the whiteness of his outfit, and pointed it out to him. 'Black and white, how appropriate. I suppose the colors suit us, don't you think? Black for the wicked, white for the good and honorable.' She was teasing him, but he responded by leaning closer to her, his voice a low murmur in her ear.  
'If you knew what I was thinking right now, you wouldn't say that.'  
She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. '_Do _tell me!'  
'I have a better idea. Why don't I show you?'  
'Yes, please,' she whispered, a little breathless, as he leaned in, his mouth only inches from hers. Instead of kissing her, though, he muttered just one word: 'Bedroom.'

* * *

The bedroom door closed behind them, and immediately she leaned back against the wall and pulled him against her so she could kiss him. She lifted one leg to hook around his waist, and the hem of her dress crept upwards to reveal a perfectly indecent amount of leg, and a lacy black garter. He couldn't resist running his hand over her thigh, from her knee to her garter, sliding over the black silk stockings as he kissed her neck. She took off his captain's cap and carelessly threw it to the floor so she could run her hands through his hair – she loved him all tousled. She slightly tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, and suddenly his mouth was on hers again, hot and greedy, and he lifted her in his enthusiasm, supporting her with both arms so she could wrap her legs around him. He pressed her harder against the wall, and she gasped slightly as she felt him, hard, between her thighs. She wanted him badly, and he seemed to notice, because he started carrying her to the bed, her legs still around his waist, their lips locked together.  
He put her down on the silk sheets, not in the middle, but at the back of the bed, so she was right at the edge of the mattress. Kneeling down on the floor between her legs, still in his white uniform, he smiled at her promisingly as he slowly reached a hand under her dress. He did not undress her, did not even take off her stockings, but simply removed her panties and disappeared underneath her skirt. A moment later, she threw back her head with a sharp intake of breath, and reached up to tangle her fingers in the sheets. Very soon, he had her moaning softly as his tongue found the right spot, and he quickly realized that it wouldn't take much tonight. When he struck a rhythm, she arched her back, her breathing fast and uneven, and the moment he increased pressure, she began to tremble. He loved this moment, when her body tensed in anticipation, and he took care to keep up exactly what he was doing until she suddenly cried out, every muscle taut, then shuddered, and he gradually slowed down and stopped as she relaxed.  
He emerged from underneath the dress, and reflected that he loved the way she always looked right after, flushed, breathless and happily dazed. For several long moments he just looked at her, waiting for her to recover. When she gave him a slow, lazy smile, he smiled back.  
'Ready?' he asked, his voice husky with his own contained longing. 'I always keep my promises, you know.'  
And he disappeared back under her skirt. She gasped delightedly, but felt obliged to say, 'Jack, you don't have to. Please don't feel obligated to… oh!' She fell back, helpless, and at that moment he surfaced again, looking at her with a grin.  
'I'm sorry, what were you saying?'  
'Nothing,' she whispered, her eyes large and dark. 'Oh, please don't stop now…'  
And he soon had her gasping on the bed again, skillfully manipulating her with his hands and tongue until she quivered at his touch. He took his time now, knowing that she was more sensitive, carefully building tension, teasing and stroking and touching, encouraged by her moans. Finally she tensed again, and he could feel her body shake as she cried out sharply.

It took her a while to recover this time, and he waited patiently, throwing himself on the bed next to her. When she finally opened her eyes to look at him, she immediately recognized his expression and, without a word, started to take off her dress. He stopped her hand.  
'Don't,' he said, a little hoarsely. 'Keep it on.'  
She looked at him mischievously. 'So you _do_ like the dress.'  
'I never said I didn't.'  
'True.' She moved closer to him, playing again with the buttons on his uniform. 'But if I can't take off my dress, you can't take of your uniform.'  
'That's a deal,' he rumbled, then impatiently moved to kiss her. She pressed herself against him and he groaned, his hands moving to ruck up her dress, and the sight of her black silk stockings, contrasting sharply against the white skin of her thighs, made him clench his jaw as he tried to maintain control over himself. But she was already unbuttoning his trousers, eagerly, her lips slightly parted, and when she drew him out he couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled her close, then rolled over so she was lying on top of him. She sat up, and he loved the sight of her in the dress as she smoothly moved her hips in a way that was sure to drive him mad. She kept one hand on his chest for support as she sank down low onto him, and he bucked his hips to take her deeper, making her gasp, her lips parted, her fingers gripping his coat convulsively. When she moved up the hem of her dress to slide a hand underneath, he watched, fascinated, and felt his excitement rise immediately to a point that was nearly unbearable. He gripped her hips tightly to control her movements, slowing her down just a little, but the sight of her fingers moving nimbly, only just visible underneath the fabric of her dress, drove him to distraction and he knew it was no use. He pulled her down deep and let go with a low moan. An instant later, he felt her clench around him, and when she collapsed on top of him, quivering, he tangled his fingers into her hair and closed his eyes as the wave of pleasure washed over him.

* * *

Half an hour later, they had both undressed, and were lying beneath the sheets, both utterly content. She rested her head on his chest, his arms around her. Jack was just starting to fall asleep, when the sound of her voice made him open his eyes again.  
'Jack?'  
'Mmm?' He noticed that she was looking at his costume, lying neatly folded over a chair.  
'How long can you keep that uniform?'  
'I told my friend that I would bring it back tomorrow.'  
'Do you think you could maybe… keep it a little longer?'  
He smiled. 'I can check.'  
She sighed happily and nestled a little closer. 'Perfect.'  
They were quiet for a while, and as he was dozing off, he heard her mutter sleepily, 'Yes, definitely one of my better birthdays.'


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's note_: Warning: there will be a _lot _of smut in this chapter. More than usual. Smutty smut. You have been warned. If you don't feel like it, feel free to skip this chapter, but this is how it wanted to be written.

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!

Enjoy!

* * *

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson walked through the doors of the Windsor hotel, frowning. Inside, he asked someone for the directions to the bar and dining area, and with a quick thank you, he walked on through the marble hallways of the hotel, following a soft tinkle of music. He couldn't help feeling a little confused. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why Phryne had asked him to meet her there, but that was what had happened: she had called him up a couple of hours ago with nothing but the cryptic instruction to meet him for dinner at the Windsor at eight. Before he could ask her why, or protest that the cost of dining at the Windsor was ridiculously extravagant, she had hung up, leaving him to roll his eyes at his empty office. After some deliberation, he had decided that going along with it would be easier than calling her back and arguing over the phone, so here he was. He planned on looking for her and asking for an explanation, and, if at all possible, get her out again after a drink or two. If she was adamant, he would (he sighed inwardly at the thought) buy them dinner, just this once. After all, they didn't often go out to eat. Letting her pay for dinner was, of course, out of the question.  
When he entered the dining area, Jack was grateful that he had had the forethought to go home and change into his tuxedo – the assembled ladies and gentlemen were all dressed very formally in their finery. At the door, he was stopped by the maître d'hotel, who asked him for his name.  
'Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,' he said, out of long habit.  
'Ah, yes, sir. I have been instructed to give you this.'  
He held out a folded piece of paper, which Jack took from him, completely mystified. Were these the usual proceedings when one dined in a place as high-end as the Windsor? He opened the piece of paper. Inside, there was a message to him, unsigned, but written in the unmistakable elegant hand of Miss Fisher.  
_Play along._  
He stared at the words. What on earth…? He didn't have the faintest idea what she meant. Play along with what? He looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and a frown settled between his eyebrows. What tomfoolery was she up to now? He crossed his arms and looked grumpily at the maître d'hotel, who was waiting politely until he was ready.  
'Anything else you can tell me about this message?'  
'No sir. Only that a lady handed it to me and said I was to give it to you upon arrival.'  
His scowl deepened, and the man seemed to hesitate.  
'What is it? Out with it.'  
'Well, sir, it's just that… The lady gave me a second instruction. She said that, if you seemed reluctant after reading the first message, I was to give you a second one. And, well, you do seem a little…'  
He rolled his eyes. 'Fine, hand it over.'  
The second piece of paper read: _Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud._ How well she knew him. He suppressed a smile and turned to the maître d'hotel.  
'Alright,' he sighed resignedly. 'Let's have the worst. Where is she?'  
'Straight through that door, sir. She is waiting for you in the bar.'

Upon entering the bar, Jack was a little awed at the splendor of the room. A high ceiling, intricate gilded moldings and elegant furniture combined to create an atmosphere of subtle luxury that was heightened by the warm, pleasant lighting and the sound of soft jazz in the background. He looked around a little awkwardly, and immediately spotted Phryne, sitting in an elegant chair at a small table, resplendent in a magnificent silver dress he had never seen before. Feeling a little out of place, he quickly hurried over and dropped into the chair next to her, but when he turned to her she gave him a look of surprise that confused him. Had she not expected him to show up?  
'So, what's happening?' he asked.  
She looked at him with a politely puzzled smile. 'I'm not quite sure, but I do like this development.' She held out her hand to him. 'Phryne Fisher.'  
He stared at her. Then, her written message came back to him, and everything suddenly clicked into place. He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. _Why me?_  
'Is everything alright?'  
He turned to see her looking at him with a clear, impersonal gaze, no hint of laughter or mischief in her eyes. He wondered for a moment why she wouldn't have told him beforehand that she was going to put on this little charade, then immediately answered his own question. _She knew I would refuse, and wouldn't show up._ He had half a mind to refuse to 'play along' even so. This was not his kind of game, and he considered simply telling her that he wasn't playing, and just wanted to spend a nice evening together over dinner. Then he remembered her second message. He hesitated. Maybe he could at least give it a try.  
He took a deep breath, then held out his hand to her, feeling slightly ridiculous. 'Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.'  
Her look of utter delight as she shook his hand told him that he had done the right thing. She leaned back in her chair to observe him with that flirtatious look he knew so well. 'A man with authority. I like that.'  
'Yes, well…' He didn't know quite what to say. He had no experience with these kinds of situations. It had been alright to banter with her in the course of professional interactions, but Jack knew he couldn't flirt if his life depended on it. Luckily, she seemed to grasp his difficulty, and came to his aid.  
'I happen to be a detective as well. Private, of course. It's funny we've never met before, seeing as we're in the same line of work.'  
'Yes, imagine that,' he said drily. At that moment, right on cue, two glasses of champagne arrived at the table, and he took one with a feeling of relief. When he glanced at Phryne, she gave him an almost imperceptible wink, and he pulled down the corners of his mouth as he sipped his champagne. It helped; he started to relax.  
'So, Inspector, do you make a habit out of dropping into unoccupied chairs in hotel bars?'  
'Only when they are next to lady detectives,' he replied.  
'How did you know that's what I was?' she teased him.  
'Instinct,' he muttered into his glass. Then he asked her a question in return. 'And what about you, Miss Fisher? Do you make a habit out of drinking alone on a Friday night?'  
'No,' she sighed. 'But my companion just called to tell me he had to cancel. I was just thinking about retiring to my room, when you came in to rescue me from a horribly tedious evening.'  
She smiled at him, but something she had said had caught his attention. He cleared his throat.  
'Er… your room?'  
She flashed him a wicked smile. 'Yes, I'm staying at the Windsor for the moment. One of the suites. _Very _comfortable.'  
He could see that she was trying not to laugh at the expression on his face, but his mind had gone into overdrive as he suddenly realized what her plan was. He hesitated for a moment at the thought of the expense, then decided that she could do with her money whatever she liked, he didn't care right now; the prospect of that suite (the novelty of the situation, and complete privacy) was extraordinarily appealing. But in their current game, he knew she wouldn't allow him to get there without trying – he would have to win her over. He gave her a half-smile and a bold look, and she knew that her challenge had been accepted.

After a second drink, Jack noticed that flirting with Phryne wasn't at all as hard as he had thought it would be. She was the perfect companion: smiling, teasing, drawing him out of his shell with every question, every remark, and he soon found himself smiling back, easily making light conversation. He noticed, to his own surprise, that he even managed to be charming in his own, slightly cynical way. They talked about little things, the champagne, the music, the other people in the room. They asked each other questions they already knew the answer to, because it made them laugh. After a third drink, Jack rose and asked her formally if she would do him the honor of dining with him. With a smile, she accepted his invitation, and when he offered her his arm, she let him escort her to the dining room.  
The dining room was larger than the bar, but equally splendid. The light was a little brighter, the music a little louder, coming from a small live band at one end of the room. They were directed to a table for two by the ever-professional maître d'hotel, and Jack's wartime French stood him in good stead as he looked over the menu and realized that English was apparently deemed too mundane a language to properly convey the exquisiteness of the dishes. They ordered a bottle of excellent wine, and soon he was sitting back in his chair, sipping the wine and contemplating how to proceed. Then he put down his glass, leaned forward and folded his hands.  
'So, Miss Fisher, tell me: have you ever been married?'  
She looked at him from underneath her eyelashes. 'I'm afraid I'm not the marrying kind, Inspector. How about you? You seem like a family man to me.'  
'Divorced,' he told her. 'And you make me sound rather dull.'  
She flashed him a smile. 'That wasn't my intention. I'm sure there might be more to you than meets the eye.'  
He cocked an eyebrow. 'Quite.'  
'Now that sounds intriguing! Go on, tell me. What's lurking beneath the wholesome surface?'  
He smiled mysteriously. 'That's for you to find out, Miss Fisher.'  
She looked at him speculatively, as if genuinely considering his words. 'Maybe I will,' she finally replied, and he smiled in satisfaction. He was actually starting to enjoy himself.

Dinner was excellent, and conversation flowed easily. They laughed a lot, getting to know each other all over again, like they had never done when they first met. To his surprise, Jack actually learnt things about Phryne he hadn't known before, because it had never occurred to him to ask her about them. They had drifted into an acquaintance, a partnership, a friendship, without conscious thought and without a conscious effort, and at the start of their relationship, it had simply seemed like they already knew each other so well.  
When their plates had been cleared away, Phryne, swaying slightly to the music, asked him if he liked to dance, knowing of course perfectly well that he didn't. He was on the point of refusing as usual, when it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't necessarily need to be himself tonight. After all, she didn't know him tonight, nobody here knew him. He could be someone else entirely… The idea was strangely liberating. To her immense surprise, he got up and offered her his hand.  
'Will you dance with me?'  
'Oh! Why yes, of course,' she smiled delightedly, her eyes wide and sparkling.  
He swept her to the dance floor, where several couples were already dancing, close together in the modern fashion. Luckily for him, the band was playing a slow tune, smooth and sensual, and he realized gratefully that no extravagant dance moves would be required of him. He pulled her close, and she put her arms around his neck in a way that was so familiar and intimate, it almost made him forget their game as he felt the sudden impulse to kiss her, hold her, run his fingers through her hair. He checked himself just in time, however, and merely put his arms around her to suit the occasion: one hand on her hip, the other on the small of her back, and they moved together to the sound of the music. She smiled up at him so happily he couldn't help but smile back.  
'You're actually quite a good dancer,' she remarked after a while.  
He raised an eyebrow at her. 'Why should that surprise you?'  
She quickly recovered. 'No reason. You just didn't seem like the kind of person who dances much.'  
'Don't judge a book by its cover, Miss Fisher.'  
'No,' she said, smiling. 'I shouldn't. People can surprise you sometimes, even if you know them well.'  
He contemplated her words for a moment, then decided that he wasn't done surprising her tonight. Maybe it was the wine, but again that sense of _possibility_ stole over him at the thought that he didn't need to be himself tonight, didn't need to be the proper, upright Detective Inspector she knew and expected him to be. He could be that man again tomorrow, but tonight… And with a slight smile, he gently pulled her closer and allowed his hand to wander downwards… She stepped back with an astonished expression that changed to mock indignation as she remembered herself, and she firmly took his hand and moved it back upwards, giving him a 'don't you dare' kind of look that had him biting back a laugh. He never would have thought to see Phryne acting so demure! She must have seen his mirth on his face, however, because she gave him a reproving look.  
'What kind of a woman do you think I am, Inspector?'  
He considered carefully before answering, knowing that the rest of the night would depend on how he handled the situation now. He knew he couldn't go wrong either way: knowing her, there was zero chance that she would be wasting a perfectly good suite, but even so, he knew she was asking him to set the tone here, and she would follow his lead. If he backed down now and apologized, like the gentleman he was, they would wind up in the same place in the end, but they would take the slower route, a careful dance of approach and retreat, trying, teasing, tempting, and the evening would be slow and sensuous, sweet and gentle. That was his usual way. He liked to take his time, he liked to rein in her impetuous nature with his calm deliberation, savoring the moment. But tonight, he didn't feel like it. He instinctively sensed that she was willing to change roles tonight, if only he made the first move. He could be anyone he wanted tonight. He made his move.

He firmly pulled her against him with one hand on the small of her back, and his voice was a low rumble in her ear.  
'What kind of a woman I think you are? I think you are the kind of woman who likes a man who knows what he wants. And what I want, Miss Fisher, is you.' She stood stock-still, pressed against him, mesmerized by the rich sound of his voice. 'I want you now. I want you naked and quivering under my hands. I want to make you shiver and moan. I want you gasping on the bed until you beg for mercy, again and again and again. And I think, Miss Fisher, that you are the kind of woman who would love every second of it.'  
He ran his hand down her spine, and she drew a shuddering breath as she pulled away slightly to look at him, and he noticed that her pupils were dilated, her breathing slightly elevated. _Bull's eye._ He did not look away from her gaze, waiting coolly to see how she would react. Finally, she bit her lip and lowered her eyes almost shyly, putting a hand on his chest as she murmured. 'Why don't I show you my room?'  
'That sounds like an excellent idea,' he replied, putting a possessive arm around her waist and confidently steering her off the dance floor.  
To his surprise, she allowed herself to be steered, and he realized she was holding back, keeping her usually tempestuous nature in check so as not to upset their delicate, newfound balance. No thinly veiled innuendos tonight, no inappropriate behavior in public, no teasing or seducing – she had surrendered to him, not only in body, but in spirit, too, and she meekly followed his lead, acknowledging his dominance, just this once. He was disconcerted by the change for a moment, until he realized that she might like to be someone else tonight, too. The thought aroused him, and he firmly took control, knowing that he wouldn't relinquish it until their game was over. She was his now.

Walking along the long marble hallways of the hotel to Phryne's suite at the top floor, they didn't speak for fear of breaking the spell, but he kept his arm around her, and though she kept a straight face, he could practically feel the excitement radiate from her. As they walked, Jack silently reflected on something Phryne had once said to him about dominance in a sexual relationship. They had been in bed together, having one of their frequently recurring discussions about his handcuffs, which he still refused to bring into the bedroom, saying that it felt wrong, like he was overpowering her.  
'Power isn't just about the physical things, Jack,' she had said, uncharacteristically earnest. 'It's not about physical restraints, about who ties the knots or who holds the key. These things help, of course, but they are only tools, and crude ones at that. Real dominance is in the mind, and much more subtle.'  
He hadn't understood her at that point, but he felt it now. It was about confidence, he realized, it was about the unshakeable belief that your partner would obey you without question, no matter what you asked, simply because you asked it. He felt more powerful now than he had when he had once tied her to the bed with this tie. She had escaped her bonds then, and they had grappled playfully for the upper hand. He had won in the end, but only because she had let him. He knew she wouldn't try anything like that tonight.  
For a moment, he felt a twinge of unease – his conscience, asking him if this was entirely right. He wasn't usually comfortable in this role. But he knew it was just for tonight, knew that she was thoroughly enjoying the situation, and that everything would be back to normal in the morning, or at any point during the night if she said stop. He decided not to worry anymore, and simply go with it.

By the time she opened the door to her suite and switched on the lights, he was very impatient to get inside. He had the fleeting impression of a big room, beautifully and sumptuously decorated, as they stepped through the door and she asked him, 'Would you like the tour, or… oh!' He had grabbed her and pushed her roughly against the wall, pressing his body against her, hard. She gasped and surrendered as he kissed her neck, and she tangled her hands in his hair. When his fingers found a breast, he noticed that her nipples were already hard, and that made him wonder if she was as aroused as he was. He lightly brushed a nipple, then quickly moved his hand downwards.  
Her long, silver dress was ankle-length, but it had a long slash on one side that ran all the way up her thigh. He made good use of it, slipping his hand between the fabric to cup her mound, pressing inward with his fingers. He heard her whisper a soft 'yes' that encouraged him, and when he noticed that she was so wet that her underwear was damp, he deftly moved aside the silk, and with one quick, sure movement, pushed two fingers inside. She threw her head back with a soft, sharp cry and he felt her go weak at the knees as she grasped at the jacket of his tuxedo, eyes closed and lips parted.  
He supported her with his body, pressing her hard against the wall as he moved his fingers, and she was moaning so deliciously, he suddenly couldn't take it anymore. When he pulled back, she opened her eyes with a plaintive little sound, but he moved aside the fabric of her dress for better access and she quickly cottoned on, eagerly unbuttoning his trousers and drawing him out. He groaned as she touched him, then grabbed both her wrists and pressed them to the wall above her head with one hand; with his other hand, he lifted one bare leg so she could hook it around his hip. When he pushed inside, she arched her back with a moan, but he firmly held her wrists and pressed her even harder against the wall. He took her with an urgency he had rarely felt before, pushing in again and again, her moans in his ear spurring him on, and the tension inside him quickly built to an unbearable pitch. He tried to breathe, tried to control it, but in his newfound dominance, he suddenly found that he didn't want to. She wasn't ready yet, but just this once his own need was paramount, and he did not slow down. He didn't want her to climax just yet. He wanted to make her wait, wanted to make her want. He knew that he had all night with her, and that he would amply make up for it later, when her own release would be all the more exquisite for the built-up anticipation. He thrust in one more time and uttered a hoarse cry as he shuddered and leaned heavily against her.  
It was clear that she had followed his train of thought when he released her wrists and looked at her, a little apprehensive that he would see disappointment or reproof in her eyes, but all he encountered was an excited anticipation that was like a held breath. She, too, knew that they had all night, and she had no doubt that he would thoroughly take care of her before they were through. Usually she wasn't keen on waiting, but tonight, he held all the cards, and she was happy to submit.

When they were more or less decent again, Jack became aware of his surroundings for the first time. They were standing in a kind of hallway, richly carpeted, with several doors leading off to different rooms.  
'How about that tour?' he asked, and she led the way to show him an elegantly furnished sitting room, lit by a magnificent crystal chandelier and containing several comfortable-looking chairs and sofas. Then there was the bathroom, all glittering white marble and golden taps. Jack took a mental note of the size of the bathtub, reflecting that he'd like to make good use of it before the night was through. Another door connected the bathroom to the bedroom. He raised his eyebrows when they entered, taking in the soft rugs, the high windows with their heavy drapes, the large mirror in its elaborate wooden frame, and finally, the huge four-poster bed covered in burgundy satin sheets and a mountain of pillows.  
Now that the first urgency of his need was gone, Jack felt a deep, confident calm settle over him as he looked around the room; his earlier feeling of effortless power was still with him, but it felt more controlled now, less desperate, less aggressive. He turned to see her looking at him with big, dark eyes, that look of breathless anticipation still in place, but he knew she would wait for him to initiate. He walked over to her, moving slowly, with almost predatory grace, until he stood right behind her. She shivered. She could sense him behind her, felt his hot breath, but she couldn't see him and he wasn't touching her, creating a dangerous tension that made her tremble. She jumped slightly when his fingers touched her shoulder, but when he started caressing her arm, she relaxed and leaned into his touch. He carefully bared a white shoulder and bent his head to kiss it, brushing his lips over her pale skin, then moving, slowly, slowly, to kiss the side of her neck. After a while, he drew back to undo the buttons at the back of her dress, and it slid to the floor to pool around her feet. He took her hand and she stepped out of the dress in her silk underwear.  
'Go lie on the bed.' His tone was soft, but it was clear that he did not expect her to argue. She did as he asked, and he took off his tie, his tuxedo jacket and his shirt before joining her on the bed. It really was a huge bed - six people could have slept in it and still have room to spare. She was lying in the middle of that vast expanse of satin, very much exposed, and as he let his eyes wander over her body, he thought he detected a slight thrum of built-up tension in her muscles. A small satisfied smile played around his lips as he touched her, a light finger running from the little hollow at the base of her throat, between her breasts and over her silk-clad stomach, to stop under her navel. He moved his hand to her knee then, tracing a trail upwards along the inside of her thigh, and she opened her legs to him, but he resisted temptation and repeated the action on her other leg. She was trembling now, but did not move. When he lightly ran a finger over the silk between her thighs, he barely touched her, and a soft whimper escaped her lips as she twitched slightly, but still she didn't move.  
He sought her eyes for a moment, trying to gauge how she was feeling; they were glittering with contained excitement, and he could read eager anticipation and a deep, aching hunger there, a hunger that pulled at something inside of him so he responded unthinkingly, laying down beside her and bending his head to kiss her.  
It was their first kiss of the night, and they sank into it willingly, starting off slow and sensually, and she hummed her contentment. But the sound and the touch of her lips soon reignited the fire within him that had temporarily been tempered, and his kisses became more passionate, demanding, as she responded in kind. He bit her bottom lip, and she pressed her hips against him in a way that made him retreat a little - he did not want to be distracted.  
He pulled her camisole over her head and as he brushed her nipples, ever so lightly, with his thumbs, she whimpered again, a sound so small and appealing he couldn't resist – with one swift movement, he closed his warm mouth around a nipple and sucked, making her sigh in ecstasy. His fingers found her other nipple and pinched it, and when she tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, he sucked harder, drawing a long, low moan from her lips. A delightfully wicked feeling kindled inside him as he took pleasure from the control he had over her body, her perfect acquiescence, his easy dominance over her. He suddenly broke all contact to see if she would protest, and for a moment it seemed she would – she opened her mouth with a look of indignation, but when he shot her a warning look, he was pleased to see that she quickly checked herself and merely bit her lip, clutching the sheets. He rewarded her by swooping down again and taking a nipple between his teeth, pulling slightly and making her utter a sharp little 'oh!' of pleasure.  
He suddenly pressed a hand between her legs and she gasped. To his great satisfaction, he noticed that the silk fabric was soaked through, and his fingers came away wet. Moving upwards, he put one finger between her lips, and she sucked it, sending a delicious thrill through him. She was squirming now, her hips bucking slightly as he moved his hand back down and slipped it underneath the silk to part her warm folds and find the center of her pleasure. The moment he touched her, she uttered a little cry and tensed, her hands gripping the sheets, her eyes closed, and he quickly pulled back, laughing softly at the expression on her face.  
'No, not yet,' he whispered huskily. She threw her head back in frustration, and he smiled as he looked down at her, her chest flushed, her breathing heavy, her whole beautiful body tense with longing. He put his mouth close to her ear.  
'Would you like me to go down there?' he murmured, and she tensed hopefully.  
'Yes,' she responded, her voice barely a whisper against his cheek.  
'You're close, aren't you?'  
'Yes.'  
'Tell me what you want.'  
'I… I want to feel your mouth on me. I want your tongue… there. Please, Jack,' she added in a hoarse whisper, and he smiled.  
'Good,' he rumbled. 'Because I want to taste you. I want to feel you. Nobody can hear us. I want to make you scream.'  
She gasped, and he moved down swiftly, pulling down her underwear so he could press his warm mouth against her, running his tongue along the folds as she arched her back, moaning loudly. She was wet and swollen, and he enjoyed her clean, salty taste as he pushed in his tongue, then moved upwards and finally settled where she wanted him. Her reaction was immediate and intense, the pent-up tension of the previous hour pushing her over the edge until she did scream, her head thrown back, her eyes closed in rapture as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her, again and again until she couldn't bear it anymore, and she was sobbing as she finally achieved release, finally, finally, release.

When she fell back into the pillows, panting, Jack pulled back to observe her. By the way she was still moving her hips slightly, he could tell that she wasn't satisfied yet, and either way, he wasn't nearly done with her. He kissed the inside of her thighs while she recovered, inching ever higher, and by the time she had caught her breath, he was very close to her again, and she squirmed slightly, wanting him to hurry up. He took that as a sign that she was ready again, and sat up with a serious expression, his eyes burning darkly as he looked at her. She didn't look away, simply waited with bated breath for what would happen next. Her chest was flushed and her pupils were dilated, and he noted these signs of arousal with satisfaction, knowing that she wanted him. But he wanted more.  
'Touch yourself,' he whispered huskily. Her eyes opened wide, but apart from a slight hesitation, she showed no sign of protest. She lifted a hand and, seeming unsure what to do, placed it on her stomach. He looked at her, amused.  
'Not there. Your breast.'  
'Oh,' she breathed, understanding dawning on her face.  
He thought he saw her eyes light up with excitement at this new game. Her gaze never left his as she slowly traced a hand upwards and cupped a breast, then lightly stroked the soft white skin around her nipple. She seemed to feel instinctively that she shouldn't touch it before he said she could. He waited for a long moment, then he told her to. As her fingers caressed her nipple, nimbly stroking and teasing until it hardened, Jack felt his breathing quicken at the sight. It wasn't just what she was doing that was arousing – he had seen her do this once before – but the fact that she was doing it because he had told her to. He felt a little shaky with the heady sense of control, and fought to keep his voice steady as he whispered, 'Pinch it.' When she did so and uttered a soft moan, he had to close his eyes for a second to control the stab of intense arousal that suddenly shot through him, and made him want to take her, immediately and completely. He knew he could, but... _Not yet. _He wanted this to be about her, and besides, he did not want to waste this opportunity. Somewhere in the back of his head, a small voice told him that he would probably never have the courage to do this again after tonight, so he wanted to make it count.  
A hoarse whisper was all he could manage as he spoke again.  
'Now the other side.'  
He swallowed hard as she obeyed him readily, her eyes closed now, her hips moving in a maddening way.  
'Stop.'  
She stopped, her eyes opening again.  
'Move… move your hand down.'  
She smiled naughtily and did as he asked, but slowly, very slowly, her eyes not leaving his.  
When her fingers slid through her black curls and started moving, he could only stand the sight for a few second before the temptation became too much for him and he gave in. He put his hand on hers to stop her, then lifted it and brought it to his mouth to softly bite the pad of her thumb, and she inhaled sharply.  
'I'm taking over,' he murmured, his voice deep with emotion and arousal. He placed her hand back on her breast. 'Keep going,' he whispered as he settled back between her legs, and he loved the thought of what she was doing as he nipped the soft white flesh of her thighs with this teeth.  
A moment later, he pulled back.  
'Tell me what you want,' he commanded her again, because he wanted to hear her say it. She usually wasn't very vocal in her instructions to him, preferring to show him rather than tell him, so he knew this would be a challenge for her. However, she accepted it without question, telling him what to do, a little hesitantly at first, then with increasingly apparent enjoyment, whispering for him to move a little higher, faster, a bit to the left. He moved his tongue to where her fingers had been an instant before and drew small, slow circles that made her squirm and moan. Then, he slid two fingers inside her and carefully felt his way to a certain soft spot, then pressed upwards, curving his fingers slightly, and she cried out sharply, her back arching as he pushed, again and again.  
'Harder,' she breathed, and he complied. She seemed gone from the world as she moaned incoherently now, random sounds, then his name, over and over, calling out to him in a cracked voice that made him need every last ounce of restraint to keep from jumping up and just taking her, hard, until she convulsed around him and fell apart in his arms. That certainly seemed to be what she had in mind, too, because she cried out to him feverishly, twisting slightly under his touch.  
'Jack… Jack, I want you, please… oh… _oh!_'  
He was sorely tempted but… 'Not until I say so,' he growled, and he quickened his pace so she was rendered helpless. A moment later, she stilled, then started shaking as she cried out, and he felt her contract around his fingers as she sobbed his name. He kept on exactly what he was doing, and wave after wave the spasms kept washing over her, until she was gasping for breath. Then, he slowly let up and she gradually quieted, still shivering with occasional aftershocks. Finally he broke contact, pressing a last kiss to her before getting off the bed and taking off his trousers. He stopped for a moment to take her in, lying there gloriously spread out on the bed, her hair tousled, her eyes closed and her lips parted, the sheets around her twisted where she had grasped them. Too impatient now to wait for her to catch her breath, he got back onto the bed and flipped her over, running his hands over her bare back, her buttocks, her thighs, then leaned over her.  
'On your knees,' he said, and again his tone was calm but inexorable, and she seemed to come to her senses at once. Quickly, she obeyed him, and he took a moment to collect himself as he grabbed her hips, then roughly thrust inside, deep, with a moan of pleasure that was echoed by her. She was extremely wet, he felt with great satisfaction, and he pushed in effortlessly, again and again. Suddenly, though, she did something unexpected: she leaned down to rest on her elbows, changing the angle, and he gasped as she was suddenly so very, very tight around him. For a moment, he felt himself lose control, then firmly regained it as he clenched his jaw and took her deeper, drawing cries from her lips at every thrust. He put an arm around her, his fingers sliding through her soft curls to part her folds and touch… She whimpered softly and trembled, and he realized she was very sensitive now. Carefully, very carefully, he placed a finger on either side of the sensitive spot, and started stroking her in the rhythm of their movements. She immediately bent her head so it touched the pillow she was grasping convulsively, and moaned into it so the sound was muffled. He couldn't take it anymore. Everything was fire as she clenched around him even tighter, and he abandoned all restraint, pushing in fast and deep, one arm around her hips so he could take her harder. He cried out as the wave crashed over him for several endless moments, then they both shuddered and collapsed onto the bed, sweaty, exhausted, and thoroughly satisfied.  
He rolled off her to lie on his back, and as his breathing gradually slowed again, he felt her tentatively reach out to him, and he took her in his arms and held her very close. As she cuddled up against him with a contented sigh, he slowly felt things return to normal. Without a word, they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

They slept late the next day. It took Jack a while to properly wake up – he spent a long time in the delicious fuzzy state between sleeping and waking, sinking back into sleep occasionally, lazily turning to put his arms around Phryne, soaking in her warmth and nearness. When he finally did open his eyes, light was shining through the half-open drapes, and he knew it was probably after noon. Next to him, Phryne stirred and stretched luxuriously, then sleepily smiled up at him.  
'Good morning, darling.'  
'Good morning,' he replied, smiling back. Something was starting to nag at him, a quiet but insistent buzzing of unease in the back of his mind, but he tried to push it away, knowing that it would dispel the feeling of utter happiness he was indulging in the moment he acknowledged it. Finally it was Phryne who brought up the subject. She gave him a very wicked look, and he felt a twinge of apprehension.  
'That was _quite _a night, Inspector. I was hoping for something… different… when I asked you to dinner at the hotel, but _oh_… I hadn't expected _this_! Frankly, I never suspected you had it in you.'  
And it all came crashing back to him, every detail of the previous night, and he felt the blood drain from his face. _The champagne_, he thought wildly, _the wine. _He would never have acted like that if he had been sober… would he? _But I wasn't that drunk._ A sickening feeling of shame crept through him as he contemplated his behavior, and he cringed as he remembered how he had treated her, how he had ordered her around, the things he had said and done, and worst of all, the way he had _felt_. Like he owned her. He couldn't look her in the eye. What had come over him? There was no excuse, he knew, none at all. How could he ever face her again? How could she ever respect him again?  
A hand on his arm startled him out of his self-loathing train of thought, and he looked straight into a pair of bright blue eyes. He froze, afraid of what he would see there, but though she looked at him more seriously than usual, he saw no hint of disapproval.  
'Jack… what's wrong? I'm sorry I teased you.'  
He swallowed. 'It's not that…' He struggled to find the words to express the intensity of the emotions he was experiencing. He quickly found he couldn't, and looked away again.  
'Jack!' he heard her exclaim softly, a note of concern in her voice. 'Jack, look at me.'  
Feeling that he owed her that, at least, he forced himself to look straight into her eyes with a great effort of will. She seemed a little shocked at what she saw there.  
'Oh darling,' she sighed, shifting so she could cup his cheek with her hand. 'No, no, it's alright, really, it's alright, don't worry.'  
He looked at her desperately, wanting to believe what she was saying, and she quickly continued.  
'You did nothing wrong, you do realize that, don't you?'  
When he didn't answer, she looked worried.  
'There's nothing to be embarrassed about.'  
But the way he clenched his jaw clearly told her that he didn't agree. She sat up now in her earnestness, urgently trying to reassure him, stroking his cheek, his hair, his arm.  
'Jack, listen to me. No, don't look away, _listen to me_. You didn't do _anything_ last night that I didn't want you to do, that I didn't enjoy.'  
'It feels like I forced you,' he mumbled disgustedly, averting his eyes again. To his surprise, she sounded a small, tinkling laugh.  
'Really darling, do you think I would allow that? Do you think I'd ever do something against my will?'  
He thought about that for a moment. 'No,' he finally admitted, reluctantly. 'No, I suppose not.'  
'You know me well enough to know that, don't you?'  
He frowned. 'I still didn't treat you… like a gentleman should.'  
When he glanced at her, he saw that her expression was thoughtful, as if she was trying to figure something out.  
'Well…' she said at length, choosing her words with care. 'I like that you're always a gentleman, I do. You are amazingly considerate, and sweet and gentle, and I think that's one of your best qualities. But, every once in a while, I don't mind if… you're not a gentleman for a bit.'  
He looked at her, uncomprehending, and she tried to explain.  
'Not in everyday situations, of course, but like last night… that was different. It was real, but it also wasn't, and we both knew it. We were playing a game, and I loved it. You do realize that, don't you?'  
He did seem to remember her being quite enthusiastic, now he came to think about it. But he wasn't convinced so easily.  
'I'm not sure…' he mumbled, and she looked at him, appalled.  
'How can you even think that?' She suddenly smiled. 'I loved every second of it, as you had predicted so accurately beforehand.'  
But he flinched at the memory, and she hastened to correct herself.  
'Alright, too soon, I'm sorry. But I mean it. I loved that you were so strong and confident, I loved that I could surrender to you, and I loved that you told me what to do.'  
He turned to her. 'Why?'  
'Because it was exciting,' she replied immediately, her eyes shining. 'It was different. I could be someone else last night, and I think you were, too. Didn't you like that feeling?'  
_Yes_, it flashed through his mind, but he didn't dare say it. She could see it on his face, however, and smiled.  
'Last night was a game, darling. And it was _so _much fun. You played it so well.' Something else crept into her eyes, and he automatically felt his body respond. 'Last night was _wonderful_,' she whispered softly. 'If we both enjoyed it, how can you think it was wrong?'  
And finally, he felt the heavy weight lifted off his chest as he tentatively started to believe her. She looked at him with so much love and tenderness, he began to feel that she was right, maybe it wasn't so wrong. After all, he had told himself before they started that he would be someone else for the night, that it would all be over in the morning. And, he reminded himself, all through the night he had indirectly felt her approval, and seen clear, tangible, physical signs of her enthusiasm for what he was doing. He allowed himself to relax slowly, sinking into the pillows with a deep sigh. It would probably take some time for him to completely come to terms with his own behavior, so different from his usual conduct, but he was reassured that she, at least, didn't judge him –quite the opposite. That was the most important thing, and he knew the rest would be alright once the initial shock wore off. He held out an arm to her, and she gratefully settled down next to him, her head in the hollow of his shoulder, her arm over his chest. He hugged her close and buried his face in her hair.  
'You're wonderful,' he whispered. 'And… I really liked last night. But I'm glad to have you back to normal again.'  
She looked up at him with a cheeky smile, and he felt her hand wander lightly downward over his stomach.  
'You know there's an _enormous _bathtub next door. Shall we take a closer look?'  
Amused, he watched her get out of bed and cross the room, naked and completely unembarrassed. As he watched her swaying hips, he felt a sudden twinge of desire that made him throw off the sheets and follow her across the room, knowing that a warm bath and a wet, laughing, soapy Phryne in his arms were probably the best things in the world for him right now. Already last night was starting to seem like a dream, and he was surprised to find that it was a pleasant dream after all. _Very pleasant_, a small voice in his head whispered, and he grinned. Who knows… they might even do this again, someday. But first he wanted to have proper balance restored by having her tease him, aggravate him, and generally annoy the living daylight out of him as usual. Putting her in a position where she could splash water all over him would definitely be a good start. With a smile, he followed her into the bathroom.


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's note:_ First of all, I want to thank everyone who reviewed my last chapter, also the guest reviewers whom I can't thank personally. Your positive feedback means a lot to me, and is a great encouragement to keep writing.  
That being said, I'm now a bit apprehensive about this chapter J It probably can't live up to the last one, but I suppose that's okay. There's always going to be some variation in quality as I try out new things, writing what feels right, and different things will please different people.

Just a heads up: there will be no smut in this chapter (gasp!). It didn't feel right. Lots of angst this time, so if you're not in the mood for that, feel free to skip or come back later. And don't worry, there will be lots of smut again in future chapters, because I can't resist J

Well… enjoy! And reviews are always welcome.

* * *

Jack's fist smashed into the man's grinning face, and he felt the crunch of breaking bones under his knuckles. He pulled back, swearing softly but savagely as he shook his hand, trying to diffuse the pain he knew would come. Right now, he was still numb with adrenaline, his anger still strong enough to keep him from feeling anything else, but the bruising impact would soon hit him. Breathing heavily, he turned and saw Phryne. She was standing in the doorway with a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, but he was still too angry to apologize. In fact, he wasn't quite sure he should apologize to her at all. After all, this was her fault. He turned his back to her again, facing the man now lying on the floor, blood streaming down his face.  
'Touchy as always, I see, Jacky,' his brother grinned, wincing as he touched his broken nose.

* * *

It had all started two weeks ago. Jack and Phryne had been working on a case together, and one afternoon they met at the station after having conducted their separate investigations in the morning, sitting down together in his office to compare notes. They were in the middle of a discussion when they heard the phone ring, and Collins answer it. A moment later, the constable stuck his head around the door to Jack's office.  
'Sir, uhm… could I talk to you for a moment?'  
Jack left Phryne sitting at his desk, sifting through files, and followed his constable out of the office. Collins seemed a little nervous when he turned to the Inspector.  
'Sir… your brother called.'  
Jack sighed, wearily closing his eyes. 'What now? Does he need me to bail him out again? I'm not pulling any strings this time!'  
'No sir, nothing like that. He wanted to let you know that he was back in town and… and he asked to see you, sir. I told him you were busy and would call him back.'  
'Thank you, Collins,' Jack said gratefully. Now that he was forewarned, he would have time to find a good excuse for not having to meet his brother, like he always did. It was bad enough that he had to talk to him on the phone every few years, whenever he got in trouble. 'Now, let's keep this between us, alright, Collins? There's no need to trouble Miss Fisher with this information…'  
'What information?'  
He turned to see her standing in the doorway to his office, a file in her hand and a curious expression on her face.  
'Nothing,' he said quickly, but she wasn't so easily deterred.  
'Oh please, that look on your face does not mean 'nothing'. And poor Hugh here is looking like he's hiding state secrets.'  
Jack threw his constable a dark look, and the young man flushed bright red.  
'Nothing that concerns you,' he added dismissively. It didn't work. She simply raised an eyebrow and pressed on.  
'Is it about that phone call?'  
Her question met with stony silence on the part of Jack, so she turned to Collins instead.  
'Hugh, who called? Honestly, you can at least tell me _that_, can't you? Does it have anything to do with our case? I thought we were working together on this. I'm not asking you to reveal sensitive information, but it couldn't _possibly_ hurt to simply tell me who called just now…'  
Hugh was stuttering clumsily, throwing his boss a trapped kind of look, and Jack could see that he was about to crack under the pressure. Hugh had never been a very forceful personality, and stronger men than him had succumbed to the phenomenon that was Miss Fisher, especially under the look she was now giving his poor constable.  
Realizing that Hugh wouldn't hold up much longer, Jack decided he'd better get it over with. She'd never let it go anyway.  
'It was my brother.' He braced himself for the impact. 'My brother called me.'  
Phryne turned to him, a look of utter surprise on her face.  
'Jack! I never knew you had a brother!'  
He looked at her grumpily. 'Well, now you do.'  
'Were you ever planning on telling me?'  
'No,' he answered curtly, and turned his back to her as he reentered his office. She followed him.  
'What? Why not?'  
'We're not on speaking terms.'  
'Why, what did he do?'  
'Nothing. Well, it's not that he _did_ anything in particular. The man's a scoundrel, that's all.'  
Phryne grinned. 'Sounds fascinating. Tell me about him. Older or younger brother?'  
'Roger is two years older than me,' Jack replied grudgingly.  
'What line of work is he in?'  
'Undoubtedly something shady,' he grumbled as he dropped into his chair. 'Look, we don't get along, alright? Leave it be.'  
But that wasn't Miss Fisher's style. She hopped onto his desk, and he rolled his eyes, sensing that she was ready for a thorough round of questioning.  
'Can we go back to work, please?' he growled, but she was unimpressed by his grumpy attitude.  
'No, I want to hear more about this mysterious brother of yours. Are you alike?'  
He sighed. 'Yes,' he admitted reluctantly. 'People say we are alike.' _In looks, at least._ In fact, all throughout his childhood and adolescence Jack had lived under the impression that his brother was a bigger, better version of himself. That was certainly the way other people treated them. They looked alike, but Roger had always been taller, more handsome, more athletic, and he had positively exuded confidence and charm, while Jack had been a calm, serious boy who liked to read adventure books and had been easily overshadowed by his elder sibling. Everybody liked Roger. _At least_, Jack reflected grimly, _until they really got to know him._  
Phryne still seemed curious. 'But what kind of a person is he?'  
Jack angrily pulled down the corners of his mouth. 'He's not very agreeable. Though most people would probably disagree with that. He's a real charmer. Did well for himself, too, last I heard. The only thing he lacks completely is a moral compass.'  
Phryne smiled. 'Sounds interesting.'  
Jack threw her a dark look. 'Maybe to you. But you can imagine that we don't always see eye to eye. We usually keep out of each other's way. It's been years since he's been in Melbourne.'  
'And now he called you?'  
'Apparently. He wants to see me.'  
'And will you?'  
He snorted. 'No.'  
'Oh, but you must, Jack! He's your brother after all. You should take care of your siblings. You never know when you might lose them.'  
He looked up at her, understanding, and his tone softened. 'Phryne, our relationship was nothing like yours was with Janey.' He found it hard to continue, but felt he should explain. 'Roger wasn't a … _kind_ boy, not to me at least. He loved to torment me whenever our parents weren't looking. Later he used to laugh that it had made me stronger, and he's probably right, but it didn't make me like him.'  
She seemed unconcerned. 'But surely that's water under the bridge now? And you haven't seen him in years, perhaps he's changed?'  
'I don't believe that's possible.'  
'But you can't know for sure unless you see him…'  
'No,' he snapped, 'I don't want to see him. End of story. Now about these witnesses…'  
He turned back to the case files, and Phryne observed him for a moment, then seemed to decide to let it go.

* * *

Two weeks later they were sitting in her parlor, enjoying a drink before dinner, when she suddenly turned to him with a purposeful expression on her face that did not bode well. He frowned.  
'What?'  
'I tracked down your brother.'  
'You did _what_?'  
'I found him for you. I thought it might be nice if you could reconnect.'  
'I _specifically_ told you that I didn't want to see him!'  
She rolled her eyes. 'Yes, but why not? A simple childhood grudge. You should get over that, darling. You still see him as the boy you knew, while you should be getting to know the man he's become. I think it would be good for you, put the past behind you. He was very keen on the idea.'  
'You _talked _to him?' He was appalled. He knew she was headstrong, but he hadn't expected her to go this far.  
'Only on the phone. Come now, darling, he's your brother.'  
'I understand that you're looking at things from your own perspective, but you don't know…'  
She cut across him. 'You're not the same person you were back then! You've changed, you've grown, it will be different now. Don't you think there might be the slightest chance that he's changed for the better?'  
He hesitated. 'I suppose so…'  
'And don't you think you should at least give him a chance?'  
'Well… maybe.'  
The doorbell rang, and her expression brightened. 'Good, because I've invited him over for dinner.'  
He stared at her, stunned. How could anyone be _this _interfering? She gave him a maddening smile.  
'Best get that look off your face. It will be fun! Oh, I'm _very _curious to meet this brother of yours!'  
She walked away to the hallway, where Mr. Butler was opening the door, and he got up slowly to follow her. He was furious. To spring this on him, unprepared…! But he knew she could never have coaxed him into doing this if he had known. Perhaps, he reflected, it was for the best. Perhaps he really should get over this childish grudge against his brother. He was family, after all, and they were grown men now.  
But the moment Roger swept over the threshold and shook Phryne's hand with a roguish grin, Jack felt an immediate, visceral stab of dislike as he took in the familiar figure, not a bit changed from when he had last seen him, almost seventeen years ago now.  
'Jack!' boomed the newcomer, catching sight of him. 'How are you, little brother?'  
'Roger,' Jack replied stiffly, holding out his hand to him, but his brother swept him into a hug which he returned very uncomfortably. Roger's hair had been slicked back with the same old sweet-smelling oil, and the scent of it made Jack's stomach contract. But his brother seemed genuinely pleased to see him again, and he tried to be polite. _At least give him a chance_. He took a deep breath.  
'It's… it's good to see you again.'  
Roger grinned broadly in return. 'You too, Jacky. It's been too long. Tell me, how have you been?'  
Phryne had kept herself in the background, watching their little reunion with a satisfied smile, but now she spoke up.  
'Shall we go into the dining room to catch up? Dinner is almost ready, and I've had an excellent bottle of wine opened for the occasion.'  
'A woman with taste,' Roger smiled charmingly. 'I like that.'  
But when Phryne turned and left the parlor, Roger put his arm around Jack's shoulder confidentially, and his smile vanished as his eyes followed Phryne. 'And quite a looker, too, I must say.' Jack stiffened, but Roger seemed not to notice. 'However did you manage to win her over, little brother? Can't say you were ever a big success with the ladies.'  
Without waiting for an answer, he released Jack's shoulder and followed Phryne to the dining room, leaving Jack to clench his jaw, determined not to say anything.

Over dinner, it soon became clear to Jack that Roger hadn't changed one bit. On the surface, he was the perfect guest: polite, entertaining, charming to Phryne, but Jack felt it was all a show. Watching his brother telling a story, gesticulating for emphasis, his mind drifted back to those boyhood summers, when they had spent long afternoons together, playing and exploring the neighborhood. As long as they were in school, he rarely had much trouble with Roger, but with nothing else to do during the long summer holiday, his brother tended to turn to his favorite pastime: pestering Jack. He was subtle about it, Jack had to admit. Roger was never the type to start a fight, or openly insult him, which Jack would have preferred. No, he had a sneaky way of needling his younger brother, always knowing exactly what to say to get him so mad he threw the first punch, and then got blamed by his parents. Roger was clever, Jack knew, a keen observer of human character, and relentless in his use of whatever information he gleaned about others' weak spots. _That's probably what has gotten him so far in life, his pitiless exploitation of other people's weaknesses._  
But there were other things. Jack's possessions would go missing without a trace. A ball, a whistle, a beetle in a glass jar. They never turned up in Roger's hands, though, so he didn't steal them because he wanted them - he simply didn't want Jack to have them. Jack was never able to prove anything, though. Even at a young age, Roger had displayed a disconcerting knack for being able to talk himself out of any situation, twisting the truth with a casual dishonesty that shocked and frustrated Jack, especially since he usually ended up getting the blame for any wrongdoing of his brother's. But the one thing Jack could never forgive him had happened much later…  
With an effort of will, Jack wrenched his thoughts away from these bitter memories and tried to focus on the present. Phryne was laughing at Roger's story, and his scowl deepened. It might seem petty, but he didn't want her to like him.  
At that point, Roger suddenly turned to Jack.  
'So, brother of mine, I hear you're divorced?'  
'Yes,' Jack said stiffly, his tone making it clear that he did not want to elaborate, but his brother had always been oblivious to tones that didn't suit his conversational motives.  
'How_ is_ Rosie?'  
'Fine,' Jack replied, tensing. He did not want to go there. He glanced over at Phryne, who gave him an I-don't-mind kind of look, but she wasn't the reason why he didn't want to discuss his ex-wife just now. However, his brother seemed determined to pursue the subject.  
'Is she really? Because I heard some unfortunate things about her.'  
'Yes, she's had a difficult couple of months, I imagine.'  
'What happened? I heard rumors, but…'  
'She fell in love with the wrong man,' he replied, looking his brother straight in the eye. 'She seems to have a knack for that.'  
Roger grinned. 'Are you really going to bring that up again?'  
Phryne looked from one brother to the other, eyebrows raised. Jack knew he should let the subject rest, but he found he couldn't. The injustice of it still rankled.  
'You never even apologized.'  
'I did nothing wrong! I never promised her anything.'  
'You went off without a word and left me to pick up the pieces,' he growled vehemently. He had been so in love with Rosie, who only had eyes for his charming older brother. It had killed him to see her so heart-broken after Roger left for Europe without even saying goodbye.  
Roger's grin widened. 'Well, you ended up marrying her, didn't you? So all was well in the end.'  
'You broke her heart!' Jack nearly shouted. 'You strung her along for months, you _knew_ she expected you to marry her, and then you just discarded her.' His anger at Roger had lain dormant for years, especially after the estrangement from Rosie, but now it flared again. Rosie had been fine in the end, that was true, but the months after Roger's departure had been agonizing. What bothered Jack most, though, was his brother's unwillingness to admit, even after all these years, that he had done something wrong.  
Roger leaned back in his chair and waved a dismissive hand. 'Oh come on, you should be grateful to me! I gave you the opportunity to be the hero there, the shoulder to cry on, you know. She never would have fallen for you otherwise.'  
Jack's hand curled into a fist, but he said nothing, anger seething through him. Roger clearly hadn't lost his knack of saying exactly those things that bothered Jack most, especially since he had always suspected that it was true, that Rosie had preferred Roger and would not have noticed him if the situation had been different. He suddenly became aware of Phryne, who had discreetly kept herself in the background as the two brothers argued, and the sight of her calmed him down. He took a deep breath, prepared to change the subject, but his brother seemed unaware – or was he? – of the emotional turmoil he was causing and went on.  
'We were never really suited for each other, anyway. You were much more her type.'  
_Was I, though?_ Jack wondered. Look at the man Rosie had chosen after him: Sydney Fletcher was exactly the same smarmy, smooth-talking, untrustworthy kind of man his brother was, up to the same shady business dealings. Maybe Jack had never been her type at all. Maybe that was partly why it hadn't worked out between them. He could only deplore her taste in men.  
Fixing his brother with a stony glare, Jack asked if they could change the subject, and Roger graciously obliged, moving on to subtly mock Jack's career instead. He clenched his jaw as he listened to his brother's needling questions, but endeavored to keep his tone neutral as he answered, knowing that Roger would only derive satisfaction from any sign of anger on his part. When he glanced at Phryne, he noticed that her expression was slightly pained as she picked up on the undercurrent of Roger's conversation. _Good_, he thought grimly. _Maybe now she'll realize why I didn't want to see him._

Throughout dinner, Roger managed, in an extraordinarily charming way, to criticize about everything Jack valued in his life, but the more his brother baited him, the more Jack came to the realization that he didn't really care anymore. The hold Roger had always had over him had lost its power over the years, as Jack had grown and come into his own, and to his great satisfaction, he managed to listen to his brother's comments with increasing indifference, visibly relaxing as the evening progressed. Then Roger turned to Phryne._  
_'Phryne – may I call you Phryne?'  
'Of course,' she graciously inclined her head.  
'Well, Phryne, tell me…' He seemed to be weighing his words, observing her with a look that was hard to read and that gave Jack an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He didn't want his brother to become unpleasant. He was just considering intervening somehow, when Mr. Butler appeared in the doorway and asked if Miss Fisher had a moment.  
'Mr. Yates and Mr. Johnson are in the kitchen, Miss. They say they have the information you requested on the 'witness with the iguana', and that you had instructed them to come to you immediately.'  
Phryne quickly got up. 'Yes, I will need to see them right away. If you will excuse me,' she added to the two brothers. 'This shouldn't take too long. Perhaps you would like to move to the parlor for a drink?'  
And with a swish of her dress, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving an uncomfortable silence, that was broken at last by Roger clapping Jack on the shoulder and enquiring genially about that drink.

Jack led the way into the parlor, and poured them both a generous measure of Phryne's best whiskey. They sat down in opposite chairs, Roger swilling his drink as he looked around the room appreciatively.  
'Well, Jack, looks like you did well for yourself.'  
'Excuse me?' Jack asked stiffly.  
His brother grinned. 'Caught yourself an heiress, didn't you?'  
Immediately, Jack felt the blood rise to his face, but he tried to control his voice, knowing that his brother was just trying to provoke him, now unrestrained by the presence of Phryne.  
'It's nothing like that.'  
'No, no, of course not,' Roger replied, with a sly look Jack didn't like one bit. 'Though one does wonder what made you change your mind.'  
Jack looked at him blankly. 'What do you mean?'  
'Well, of all the people I know, you were the one I would have thought least likely ever to be in this situation. Always so high-minded, our Jack. Always doing the right thing. And now… ' Roger smirked, '_living in sin_. I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.'  
Jack froze. This was a very touchy subject with him, one he hardly dared discuss with Phryne but which he felt deeply about. However, that was the last thing he wanted Roger to know, so he tried to give a casual reply.  
'I wouldn't have thought _you_ would be one to judge, Roger.'  
'Oh no, not at all! In fact, I think you're doing the smart thing, for once. You probably don't want to be tied down by a woman like that.'  
Jack frowned. 'What…?'  
But Roger interrupted him, waving a dismissive hand. 'Never mind, never mind. Though I do wonder what our parents have to say about this. They can't be too pleased.'  
When Jack avoided his eye with a rather guilty look, Roger continued gleefully. 'You mean you haven't told them? You're full of surprises tonight, little brother! The dutiful son, lying to his parents for a woman.' He tutted in mock reproof, his eyes dancing.  
'I never lied,' Jack countered. 'I simply haven't told them… yet.'  
Why exactly hadn't he told his parents? He wasn't quite sure, except that he knew that his kind but old-fashioned father and mother would have great difficulty understanding Phryne's 'liberated woman' attitude and even greater difficultly with their… arrangement. Meanwhile, his brother was laughing.  
'Same thing, really. Though I don't really understand you, Jacky. She's smart, she's rich, she's damn pretty – why don't you just do the decent thing?'  
When Jack flashed him an uncomprehending look, Roger elaborated: 'Marry the poor girl, man, and make an honest woman out of her.'  
Jack looked at his brother in horror. 'It's not like that at all! It's not that I don't want to marry her…'  
Roger let out a great whoop of laughter. 'Do you mean to say that _she_ doesn't want to marry _you_? Oh, that's rich.'  
Cheeks burning, Jack tried to remain calm. 'I haven't asked her to marry me.'  
'Why not?'  
'It… hasn't come up yet,' he lied.  
Roger looked like he didn't believe him. 'Well…' he said slowly, observing Jack closely. 'I can't say I blame you.'  
Jack was silent, knowing that there was more to come. After a moment of Roger hemming and hawing, making an almost convincing show of hesitating, he continued delicately.  
'You know… I've been in Melbourne for a couple of weeks now, and I've heard things…'  
'Things?' Jack asked icily.  
'About her. That she's got… well, pretty loose morals?'  
Jack tried not to react, but a muscle was jumping in his jaw. He had always assumed that there would be a fair amount of gossip going around about Phryne, but it was different now that he was confronted with it directly. Did people really see her like that, he wondered, and immediately answered his own question. Of course they did, and actually they were right, weren't they? When he didn't reply, Roger went on.  
'I've been hearing of several affairs… Russian dancers… communists… Chinese… she's not too picky, is she?'  
His heart was pounding with anger now, but still he refused to give his brother the satisfaction of showing it. Instead, he tried to assume a worldly, tolerant attitude as he replied.  
'She's a modern, independent woman. She can do as she pleases.'  
'Of course!' Roger conceded, looking at Jack from the corner of his eye. 'I simply hadn't expected you not to care.'  
'I don't understand. Why would I have any right to judge her for things she did before we were together?'  
'You don't, of course. I just thought you wouldn't have liked the things she still gets up to.'  
Jack felt himself go cold. He knew he shouldn't ask, knew he should change the subject, or even better: kick Roger out immediately, with his insinuating remarks and his sly looks. But before he could stop himself, the question slipped out through numb lips.  
'What are you talking about?'  
Roger looked uncomfortable now, or at least making a very good show of it. He ran a hand through his hair. 'Oh… I thought you knew.'  
'Knew what?'  
'Well,' Roger continued, a little apologetically. 'I'm just telling you what I've heard since I came back to Melbourne. People seem under the impression that she's still sleeping around.'  
'That's not true,' Jack replied automatically.  
'Probably not,' his brother said reassuringly. 'You know how people are. It's just that… she gives them a lot to talk about. Apparently she regularly appears at dinner parties without you?'  
'I have to work. She doesn't. I can't accompany her every day of the week.' That was true, but it was also true that he simply didn't like these dinner parties, and got out of them whenever he could. Now he was starting to wonder if that was such a good idea.  
Roger nodded. 'Perfectly understandable. And I'm sure there's nothing to the rumors that she's been seen flirting with a different gentleman at every occasion.'  
'You can't blame her for talking to people,' Jack snapped.  
'Of course not,' Roger said, but his eyes were glinting and he eagerly pressed his advantage. 'But there is talking and _talking_. Common decency… She could be a little more demure. It's not very nice of her that she makes you the laughing stock of Melbourne society…'  
Jack jumped up, blood rushing in his ears. He went over to the drinks cabinet on the pretense of refilling his drink, so he could stand with his back to his brother. He didn't believe it, didn't believe a word he was saying.  
But Roger had followed him across the room to stand by his shoulder, and Jack could feel the pleasure his brother was deriving from this. He turned away, jaw clenched, but he couldn't shut out the murmur in his ear.  
'Of course, I understand. She's very charming. But perhaps it would be more… prudent… to marry her, if you really can't bear to leave her. That way you could keep a tighter rein on her.'  
Despite himself, Jack snorted at the thought of anyone keeping a tight rein on Phryne. Roger seemed to misinterpret his reaction, though, and he sounded annoyed.  
'You can laugh, but it's true. I can't imagine how you can bear it that she's going around Melbourne making a fool of you. But then again, perhaps you've changed since I last saw you.' A definite hint of malice was now creeping into his tone. 'Perhaps you're not so high-minded anymore after all. Is it because she's rich? Thinking of retiring early? Or is she really good in bed? Maybe that's why you don't mind that she's such a tramp…'  
And that was when Jack had hit him.

* * *

Throwing the punch, the crunch of breaking bones, the spurt of blood, the momentary look of alarm in Roger's eyes before he went down on the floor – it was all extremely satisfying, but only for a moment. Immediately afterwards, the fog in his head cleared, and realized that he had, once again, fallen for his brother's tricks. Roger sat up, gingerly pinching his broken nose in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood that was drenching the front of his shirt, but Jack noticed that he was smirking all the same. He wondered if this was why Roger had come tonight, for the simple pleasure of taunting Jack until he snapped, just like old times. Or perhaps he had come with better intentions, but been unable to resist the temptation. In any case, Jack felt like a fool. He knew he shouldn't have let Roger get inside his head, knew that this was exactly what his brother had been trying to do. Apparently to Roger, a broken nose was a price he was willing to pay to get the better of him one more time.  
He turned away from Phryne, who was standing in the doorway, having come in just in time to see him hit his brother. She flashed him a concerned look – she knew perfectly well that something must be very wrong for him to lose control like that – but at that moment Roger scrabbled to get up, and she automatically reached out to support him.  
'Are you alright?'  
He grinned, a rather ghastly sight with his face covered in blood, but he seemed to be in very good spirits. 'Oh, I'm fine. Don't worry. We used to get into fights all the time, Jack and me. Though I must say he does hit harder now than when he was sixteen. Punched like a girl back then. Could you maybe get me… ah, yes, thank you.'  
With impeccable timing as always, Mr. Butler had appeared with a wet cloth. Roger took it from him and carefully wiped away most of the blood.  
'I think I'd better go,' he grinned. 'Not quite the family reunion I was hoping for, but well… Jack was always a bit touchy when it came to me. It was lovely to meet you, Phryne.'  
He held out his hand to her, and she shook it with a concerned look.  
'Hadn't you better stay here? That looks broken, shouldn't I call a doctor?'  
'No, no,' he said dismissively. 'I can walk, don't worry. I'll run by my usual doctor on the way home, he's a friend of mine, he won't mind. Besides, I don't think Jack wants me in the house any longer, ha! It was good seeing you, little brother. You know, up until the point where you punched me. Though even that brings back memories.'  
And chuckling, still pressing his handkerchief to his face, Roger left the house.

The moment the door closed behind him, Phryne turned to look at Jack in amazement.  
'What happened?'  
He was still too angry to be reasonable. He rounded on her so suddenly she took a step back.  
'Is it true?' he demanded.  
'Is what true?' she asked, a little alarmed at his expression.  
'That you've been flirting with men all over Melbourne!'  
She looked completely nonplussed. 'What on earth are you talking about?'  
'At dinner parties. Apparently people talk about you.'  
She looked at him, frowning. 'You're not making any sense. Please calm down.'  
His anger seemed to have taken on a momentum of its own – even though he knew that he was being irrational, that he should stop talking immediately before he said something he'd regret – the reasonable voice in his head was drowned out by the taunting echoes of his brother's voice… _common decency… there's talking and talking… flirting with a different gentleman at every occasion_.  
'People are talking because you always show up at parties without me,' he started, and she interrupted him with an indignant look.  
'You don't like them! I'm not going to sit at home every night, I like spending time with my friends.'  
'That's not the point,' he snapped. 'The point is that you don't behave properly, you never do! If you're flirting with every man that comes near you, how do you expect people not to talk?'  
She had grown very still. 'Is that what Roger told you?'  
'It doesn't matter who told me. Is it true or not?'  
'Is what true?' Her tone was cold now, but he didn't care. 'That I talk with my friends at parties? Yes, that's true. I like to enjoy myself when I'm out. I refuse to sit in a corner all night and only talk to spinsters because you don't happen to be there. I'm not going to give up my life because 'people talk'. So what if they say I'm a flirt? People will always talk. You know it doesn't mean anything.'  
'They're saying other things as well.' It angered him that she remained so cool.  
'What other things?'  
'That you're still having affairs left and right.'  
She looked as if he had slapped her. 'You don't believe that,' she whispered.  
He felt a twinge of regret as he looked at her, because in truth he didn't believe it, not really. Did he? All of a sudden it all crashed over him, the feelings he'd kept suppressed throughout the last months for fear of confronting the issue and making it worse: his doubts of whether he was good enough for her, if she wouldn't tire of him, his frustration and sadness at her unwillingness to commit to him in any way, her laughter when he tried to discuss these things with her, dismissing them lightly, we'll see how things go, why worry, why make promises, it was all just a game to her.  
His mouth was a thin line. 'Is it true?'  
She looked at him indignantly. 'I resent that you're even asking me this! Don't you trust me?'  
'Why should I? When you're always keeping me at arm's length. You never let me in. You never tell me how you feel.'  
She seemed very much taken aback, unsure now, searching for words. He laughed bitterly.  
'See? Even now.'  
'Jack…'  
He brushed away her tentative hand on his sleeve.  
'No. If it's too much for you even to say, outright, that you are not interested in other men, that you are with me, with me only, then there's nothing left to say. If you can't even commit yourself _that much_ to this relationship, then why am I still here? I don't care about what other people say,' he continued, at the stricken look on her face. 'But I do care about what _you_ say.'  
When she remained silent, a desperate look in her eyes, he nodded. Without a word, he gathered up his coat and hat, and walked out.

* * *

When he woke up, he felt terrible. He had spent most of the previous night staring into his whiskey glass, in an agony of indecision about whether or not to go back over there and apologize, try to make things right whatever it took. The thought of losing Phryne took his breath away, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to get up out of his chair. He simply couldn't do it anymore. She should come to him, and if she didn't – he grimaced – that was a clear enough sign that he really didn't matter that much to her.  
He kept replaying the night's events in mind, over and over, trying to reason with himself, but it was no use. Now that he was calmer, he saw more clearly what was bothering him. It wasn't that he really thought that she might be unfaithful to him – that was not her style. If she tired of him, she would let him know upfront, he was sure of that. She was not the kind of person to sneak around - if she liked someone else better, she would let him know soon enough. No, it wasn't that. It wasn't even the flirting. If he was perfectly honest, that bothered him a bit, yes, but he knew that this was just Phryne, part of who she was, and he knew it was meaningless.  
What troubled him – he came to realize after his third drink – was that seemed unable to say even the smallest thing that might indicate at least some level of commitment or seriousness, not even to stop him from walking out the door. And that made him wonder if she was at all serious or committed. It was true that they worked well together, on all levels, but how did he know he was not just a distraction, like all the others, just another toy, only one that was a little more challenging and enjoyable, one she hadn't tired of quite yet. He couldn't live with the uncertainty. He was slow to open up himself, he knew, slow to offer up his heart, but once he was past the initial reluctance, he gave himself completely and utterly, without reservations or doubts, a love so joyfully desperate that he couldn't possibly contain it. That was the only way he knew how to love. But he couldn't keep it up if it wasn't reciprocated. That was fine for the first few months, in the happiness of finally being together, but now, he needed more, some form of certainty, some way of knowing that she wouldn't walk out on him tomorrow, wouldn't leave him the moment something better came along.  
_Don't you trust me?_ The question kept coming back to him, and it was hard to answer. Yes, he thought, on the one hand he trusted her implicitly, trusted her judgment, her honesty, her loyalty. In case of an emergency, there was no one he would rather have by his side – she was steady, quick to improvise, level-headed. He trusted her with his life. The problem was, he reflected wryly, that he didn't know if he trusted her with his heart.

When he walked through the door of the station the following morning, feeling worse than he could ever remember feeling, he half expected her to be there, waiting for him, with a lunch basket and a cheerful smile, but the only one to greet him was Collins. By the startled look his constable gave him, Jack gathered that he looked pretty terrible. He shut himself in his office all day, burying himself in his work and refusing to engage in conversation. Every time the door opened, he looked up hopefully, but it was never her.  
He stayed late. The thought of returning to his cold and empty house held little appeal to him, so it was well after nightfall that he finally decided to go home, on the premise that he could hardly spend the night in his office. He had a moment of weakness when he got into his car, desperately wanting to drive over to her house and knock on the door, as he had done so often, knowing that she would welcome him, forgive him, happy to continue as if nothing had happened. Nevertheless, he steeled himself and drove home, fully prepared to drink himself into oblivion again.

But when he got home she was waiting for him, leaning against the hood of her car. They stood watching each other for a long moment, before he turned to the door and softly said: 'Come in.'  
She seemed relieved at the invitation, and followed him through the door, but when he turned on the light her expression changed to worry.  
'You look terrible.'  
He merely grunted, noting that she looked every bit as coolly beautiful and composed as ever. He invited her to sit down and poured them both a drink, feeling that they would probably need it. As he sat down, she took a deep breath.  
'First of all, I'm sorry about inviting your brother. You were right, he's a cad, and I should have listened to you.'  
'Never mind that,' he sighed. However angry he was at his brother, that was not the most important thing now. 'You didn't know. You were only trying to help.'  
'It was selfish of me. I wanted to satisfy my own curiosity, I didn't take your feelings into account.'  
'Forget it,' he mumbled, and he meant it. He didn't care.  
And uncomfortable silence ensued, both of them staring into their drinks. Finally she looked up at him with a pained expression.  
'Jack, I'm sorry.'  
He shook his head. 'This is not something you can apologize for. If you don't feel it, you don't.'  
'Don't feel what?'  
'Serious. About us.'  
'Jack…' she had that trapped look again. 'You _know_ how I feel.'  
'How can I, when you never talk to me? When you pull away every time I try? Sometimes I get the feeling…' He took a deep breath, forcing himself to get it out, even if it meant that he would never see her again. 'I get the feeling that this is just a game to you. Phryne… do you even care for me?'  
She looked shocked. 'How can you even ask that?' she whispered, and he suddenly noticed that she didn't look so composed anymore. Still, he pressed on.  
'And yet you're not answering the question.'  
She jumped up suddenly and began pacing the room in an agitated way.  
'This is hard for me! I've been on my own for a long time, completely free, I admit that I don't like the thought of giving that up. And after René… he was so possessive, it scared me. I don't like the thought of 'belonging' to someone.'  
Jack rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. 'Phryne,' he said softly, appealingly, 'I'm not René.'  
'I know that.' She had stopped, looking at him intently.  
'I'm not saying I want you to 'belong' to me. But I can't do this casual thing anymore, I just can't, I'm not like you, I need some kind of certainty, I need to know that you'll still be here tomorrow.'  
'I will be.' The whisper was so faint he almost thought he had imagined it, but then he noticed she was shaking. Without thinking, he crossed the room in three long strides and took her in his arms.  
'It's alright,' he murmured, and she gripped him tightly.  
'I don't want to lose you,' she said softly. 'Because I do care for you, Jack, I do. You, and no one else. I'm not very good at saying it, but it's true. You just need to give me some time. But I will be here tomorrow.'  
It was enough, for now. He stroked her hair, and they stood for a long time, neither of them willing to break apart. He suddenly realized how rarely they hugged. She was very physical in expressing her affection, and she was often close to him, sitting on his lap or sleeping in his arms, but she never came to him simply to hold him, to be near him, and he wasn't one to initiate physical shows of affection, which were always slightly uncomfortable for him. But he enjoyed it now, pressing her closely to him as he breathed in her scent, acutely aware of her body against his. And he silently resolved that he would never let her go, no matter what it cost, no matter how much it hurt. She wasn't the easiest person to live with, that was true, she was difficult and complicated, but nothing worthwhile was ever easy or straightforward, he reflected. And no matter how much trouble she gave him – in the end, she was always worth it.


	21. Chapter 21

_Author's note: _Just a short fluffy piece of smut to complement the last chapter :) A little interlude, say. Bigger things in the works, but this was nice after all the angst.

Enjoy!

* * *

Jack dropped the last of the files on the stack with a relieved sigh. It had taken him all morning, but he was finally caught up on his paperwork. Now he was waiting for a report from the morgue that would hopefully give him the information he needed to continue his investigation, because so far he had hit dead ends everywhere. He frowned at his watch. It was only noon, and he knew he couldn't expect the report before three, which meant that he had some time to kill until then. He wondered if he might not drive over and see Phryne for a couple of hours - after all, he would probably work late tonight, so he would make up for missed time then. Yes, he decided, he would go and have lunch with Phryne. She would probably be able to distract him from the frustration he felt over this case, and of course there was the added bonus of Mr. Butler's cooking. Smiling, he got up, took his coat and hat, informed Hugh that he would be gone for a few hours, and walked to his car.

Phryne had been at a dinner party the night before, so he had spent the night at his own house. Since their fight on the night of his brother's visit, about a week ago now, Phryne had obligingly stayed home for a couple of nights, refraining from going out for his sake, he knew, and he was grateful, because their new understanding still felt a little fragile. But he knew he couldn't expect her to keep from going out forever. When she had casually invited him to the dinner party a few nights ago, he realized very well that he couldn't possibly ask her not to go. He had considered going with her, then decided that she would probably take that as a sign that he didn't trust her, so he had put aside his feeling of unease, and told her that he had to work, but she was free to go without him. She had seemed relieved and pleased, which told him that he had made the right decision, and to his surprise he had realized last night that he was actually okay with it.

But – he felt stupid admitting it, even to himself – he had missed her last night. They had been very close all week, sharing a new sense of connection now things were clearer between them, and they had stayed up late every night, talking and making love, enjoying each other's company. Now that she had finally verbalized her commitment to their relationship, she seemed newly uninhibited in demonstrating her affection for him in many small ways – a hand on his arm, kissing him on the cheek at inappropriate times and locations, even putting her head on his shoulder once or twice. And while he pretended not to notice most of the time, or even to get annoyed when she kissed him on the lips in front of a flustered Hugh, he really loved these small daily gestures. It wasn't that she was suddenly clingy – they were a far cry from that – but rather that she had somewhat let go of her fierce show of independence and her aloofness when it came to anything but the physical aspect of their relationship. Slowly but surely, he felt, she was letting him in.

All in all, he looked forward to seeing her for a couple of hours and discussing the case with her. Therefore, he was disappointed when the door was opened not by Phryne, but by Mr. Butler, who informed him that Miss Fisher had come home very late and was still sleeping. Frowning slightly, he considered going back to the station, then decided that she had slept quite late enough.  
'Shall I wake her, Inspector, and tell her you're here?' the butler inquired.  
'Yes,' he replied, then immediately changed his mind. 'No, wait, I'll wake her myself.'  
Mr. Butler inclined his head politely and retreated to the kitchen, while Jack took off his coat and hat and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. He opened the door very quietly, stepping into the gloom of the heavy-curtained room. As his eyes adjusted to the half-light, he could see her silhouette under the blankets, sprawled out between the pillows, and the slow sound of her breathing told him she was still fast asleep. He had intended to be firm with her: open the curtains and wake her with a few teasing remarks, but the dusky, sleepy atmosphere of the room affected his mood, and he felt a sudden pull toward the bed, with its soft pillows, its warmth, and the delight of a sleeping Phryne. She looked so sweet, a slight smile on her lips as if she was having a pleasant dream. How could he resist?

Without a sound, Jack took off his shoes, jacket and, on second thought, his shirt as well, and folded the garments neatly so he wouldn't have to show up at the station with rumpled clothes. Then, he crawled between the sheets, shivering with pleasure as he settled into the warm little nest she had made, and he lay down close behind her, putting an arm around her waist and molding his body to fit hers. She was still so soundly asleep that she didn't even properly wake up – she just smiled and sounded a soft, sleepy sigh of contentment as she settled back into him, seeming unsurprised to suddenly find herself in his arms. He held her gently, careful not to wake her, as the regular rhythm of her breathing calmed him down until he felt relaxed and happy, and he considered doing something he never did, and take a nap. But then she moved and stretched luxuriously, her loose-fitting camisole opening on the side to reveal the curve of an ivory breast, and the corner of his mouth pulled down as his thoughts turned to other possibilities.

Slowly, he started stroking the smooth silk covering her stomach, then moved his hand up to cup a breast. She stirred slightly, but when his fingers found her nipple, she quickly pushed his hand away. He smiled. She wasn't a morning person at the best of times, but especially not when she hadn't slept enough, which he suspected was the case here. He tried again, teasing her nipple through the silk until it hardened, but this time she curled in on herself with a little sound of protest, raising her arms in front of her chest. Nevertheless, he saw that she was still smiling, so he was undeterred – he didn't mind a little challenge, though he realized that he would have to adjust his strategy. He moved his hand back to her stomach, holding her close to him, and she relaxed again. After a while, he gently started nuzzling her, moving his lips softly over her neck and shoulder, very slowly, letting his warm breath play over her skin. With his fingers, he caressed her bare arm, and she smiled and moved closer to his warmth. He didn't press his advantage, but kept up his light caresses, stroking and kissing unhurriedly, waiting patiently for her to respond, knowing that it probably wouldn't take very long.

And indeed, after a few minutes she started stirring slightly, pressing herself to him. Though her eyes were still closed, her lips parted a little, and she started moving her hips ever so slightly, in a way that he knew oh so well. Keeping a tight rein on his own arousal – he knew he shouldn't rush her, he needed to take things slow if he didn't want her to push him away again – he moved his hand over her hip to stroke her thigh, then up again between her breasts.  
'Jack,' she whispered, her voice a sleepy murmur. 'I'm sleeping.'  
But she was still making slight circular movements with her hips, so he didn't pay her too much mind. He nuzzled her ear as he cupped a breast again.  
'Do you want me to stop?' he asked quietly, then lightly brushed her hardened nipple with his thumb, and she sighed softly with pleasure.  
'No,' she breathed, and touched his hand to indicate that he should continue.

He took his time, running his hand slowly over her body, awakening her skin to his touch until she hummed slightly, smiling. He kissed her neck as he stroked her breasts, careful with her sensitive nipples so he wouldn't wake her up too suddenly. He liked her like this, half asleep, warm and supple and pliant under his hands.  
Still kissing her shoulder, her neck, the soft spot behind her ear, he let his hand wander downwards and slipped it between her thighs, to stroke her through the silk of her underwear. The movement of his fingers was smooth and gentle, and she responded by making small, sleepy sounds of pleasure that made him smile. 'Cute' was not an adjective that was generally applicable to Phryne, but she was very cute now, he thought, keeping up his caresses. He wanted to be closer to her, but they were already skin to skin. When asked her to lift her head, she did so lazily, and he slipped his other arm around her, for her to rest her head on, so he could hold her properly. Meanwhile, she had opened her thighs to him, and though her eyes were still closed, he knew she was ready.

He undid his pants buttons a little clumsily with one hand, quickly deciding that it would be too much trouble to go through the laborious process of taking off his pants completely. Her slip was loose-fitting, so he didn't bother trying to take that off, either – he simply drew aside the fabric, then guided himself to her. Matching the situation and the mood, he pressed in slowly, unhurriedly, closing his eyes at the bliss of it all, as she sounded a sigh of pleasure and reached back to tangle her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. When he had pushed completely inside her, he stayed still for a moment, just to enjoy that moment of connection, as close together as they could possibly be, and she was so soft and warm, he felt for one blissful, dazed instant as if she was melting into him, or he was melting into her, and the thought of ever being apart was absurd.  
But then she moved her hips with a soft moan and he was pulled back to reality as he slowly started moving, hugging her close to him, his face buried in her hair, breathing in her smell. His hand moved around her hip again as he kept up a lazy rhythm, and he slipped it underneath the silk of her camisole in search of a nipple, pinching it slightly to make her gasp. Teasingly slow, he let his hand slide down her stomach until his fingers encountered soft curls, and she uttered a strangled little 'oh' as he settled on the right spot. He let his fingers move in time with their languid movements, to build the tension slowly, keeping her balanced on the edge for a seeming eternity, and as time blurred in the warm, close semi-darkness, the outside world seemed like a strange and distant dream. He wished it could last forever, but finally his self-restraint began to wear out, and he picked up the pace ever so slightly, pressing in deeper, his fingers moving quicker, and her breath was coming fast as she pushed her hips back into him, one hand on his, keeping him there, right there, and he felt her begin to tremble, moaning, her hand in his hair tightening almost painfully. With a sharp gasp, he suddenly lost control as he grasped her even tighter and pushed in deep, again, and again, until they both shuddered and lay still, shaking slightly with the aftershocks.

After several breathless moments, she disengaged herself and turned to curl up against his chest. He held her, sleepily content. Perhaps now would be a good time for that nap. But the fuzzy little rays of sunlight sneaking in through the chinks in the curtains alerted him once more to the fact that there was, indeed, a world outside of their bedroom, and as his mind cleared he realized with a sinking feeling that he would have to get up soon to return to the station. Minute after warm, comfortable minute he kept putting off the unpleasant moment where he would have to get out from between the sheets – the fact that Phryne could and probably would stay in bed and doze on peacefully did not make things easier. Finally he told himself sternly that he should man up, and gently moved his arm out from under her head, kissed her hair one last time – she merely stirred, already fast asleep again – then got out of the bed and started dressing again.  
At the door, he threw her one last look and smiled. She was sleeping on soundly, like nothing had happened, and he wondered if she would wake up later and think that it had been just a dream. He wanted to leave her something, some sign… Looking around the bedroom, he spotted a vase full of flowers on a little table near the window, and he quickly strode over and took out a small red rose, still tightly curled in on itself, and put it on the pillow next to her. Shaking his head at his own sentimentality, but happy with the gesture all the same, he quietly left the room. Walking to his car a moment later, he breathed in the fresh, clean air with a grin. He hadn't really noticed before what a beautiful day it was.


	22. Chapter 22

_Author's note:_ Another short, fun little chapter, nothing much.  
This one is for Tumblr's Leptonsandbosons, who provided me with the prompt. (By the way: if you're not on Tumblr, consider checking it out - lots of fabulous MFMM things going on there!)

Reviews are very welcome!

Enjoy!

* * *

They were arguing over breakfast. Which, Jack reflected a little tiredly, happened more often than it strictly ought to, seeing as they rarely breakfasted together anyway because usually he was up in the morning and on his way to the station before she even began to stir. So when she decided to get up early and join him for breakfast, he was immediately suspicious as to her motives, especially since there weren't any exciting developments in the case they were working on, and that was usually the only thing that could motivate her to voluntarily get out of bed before 10 am. He subtly tried to question her about what she was planning to do that day, to see if it was anything that she really _shouldn't _be doing, but of course she saw right through him.  
'Why do you care what I'm doing today?' she asked him, observing him closely, and he tried to keep a blank face.  
'Just making conversation over breakfast.'  
'Oh. Alright.' But a further explanation did not seem forthcoming, and he started to feel there was something definitely off about her reticence. He tried again.  
'So… what _are _you doing today?'  
'I'm curious as to why you want to know.'  
'I'm curious as to why you won't tell me.'  
'Well, if you must know,' she said smoothly, 'I plan to visit Madame Fleury today for a new evening gown, and I might stop by Aunt Prudence for tea. She's been asking to see me, and I've been putting it off for too long now.'  
'And?'  
'And what? Isn't that enough for one day? I'm not sure I'll be up for much after having faced the wrath of Aunt P.'  
He was momentarily distracted. 'Why? Have you done something wrong?'  
'Undoubtedly,' she smiled, and he smiled back. It was true that dear old aunt Prudence usually had _some _complaints about her niece's behavior. Or clothes. Or company. Especially _his _company. He tried not to mind.  
'So why would you think I'm doing something else today?'  
He looked at her for a moment, then changed tactics. 'Why did you get up so early?'  
She didn't even blink. 'I wanted to have breakfast with you and see you off to work.'  
He snorted in disbelief. 'That's very domestic of you.'  
'Maybe I like being domestic every once in a while. A change of pace.'  
He threw her an unimpressed look. 'I'm not buying it.'  
'Jack!'  
'You're up to something you think I won't approve of, so you're not telling me, just in case.'  
'You don't honestly think I would lie to you?'  
'Oh, no,' he replied pleasantly, 'I think you're perfectly prepared to go and visit Madame Fleury and maybe even Mrs. Stanley, but that leaves you plenty of time to do whatever it is you're planning that you conveniently forgot to mention and that I'll be hearing about tonight. Or rather when I'm forced to arrest you for breaking and entering. Again.'  
There had been an unfortunate incident only two weeks before where she had broken into a suspect's house to try and obtain some essential pieces of information – without his knowledge, of course – and he had been alerted by concerned neighbors, turning up to arrest a burglar and finding himself face to face with Miss Fisher. He had been very annoyed at her, torn between his inclination to be lenient toward her (especially since the papers she brought him had helped him close the case) and his sense of duty to the law, helped along by his desire to hold her accountable for her actions for once. In the end, there had been handcuffs and mug shots (and stern admonishments that she had ignored completely), but he'd left it at that. Nevertheless, he was not keen on repeating the experience, feeling that he'd have to be firm the next time if he wanted to avoid rumors that he was biased. That, and he frankly wasn't keen on being associated with recidivist criminals.

All in all, he was trying very hard to _keep _her out of trouble for once, instead of having to _get_ her out of it as usual. And that meant taking precautionary measures, even if they were unpleasant.  
'Now please tell me what you're up to.'  
'Why do you assume I'm up to something?'  
He sighed. They weren't getting anywhere like this, if she kept parrying every question of his with a counter-question. He needed to narrow down the possibilities. He was quiet for a moment, casting around for whatever kind of mischief she could possibly get into. Then it hit him.  
'You're not planning to go down to Williamson's warehouse to 'look around', are you?'  
'Now why would you think that?'  
The fact that she answered so evasively made him feel like he was on the right track, so he pressed on, vaguely alarmed now.  
'Because I know you! Phryne, that's _not_ a good idea. Yes, it will probably be deserted, and I know there might be incriminating evidence there, so I can see that it's a tempting course of action, but we have to follow the proper procedure and get a search warrant. Mr. Williamson has made it very clear that he doesn't want us on his premises again, so we'll have to wait for the Commissioner to decide if we have probable cause or not.'  
'Jack, this man smuggles illegal weapons and I'm almost sure he murdered that poor young man whose body we found because he tried to get out of the operation. We _do _have probable cause!'  
'That's not up to you to decide,' he replied, unyielding. 'And it would be very foolhardy of you to go poking around those warehouses. You know the law cannot protect you there.'  
'Afraid you'll have to arrest me again?' she smiled, but he was dead serious.  
'That's the least of my worries! Phryne, these men mean business. We need to be careful, and operate within the confines of the law. These are arms dealers. If they see you snooping around, they'll shoot to kill.'  
She seemed utterly unimpressed. 'Don't worry, Jack. I'm not stupid. And now I'm off to see Madame Fleury, or I'll be late for my appointment.'

She got up from the table and went into the hall to gather her coat and purse, but he hurried after her to stop her with a hand on her elbow.  
'Promise me you're not going to Williamson's.'  
'Look,' she replied, picking up her purse and opening it, showing him the contents. 'See, I'm not taking my gun with me. Now do you honestly believe I would walk into a potentially dangerous situation unarmed?'  
He looked at her shrewdly. 'What about your dagger?'  
She was suddenly very busy with her hat, avoiding his eye. 'What do you mean?'  
'The dagger you sometimes wear in your garter. I see no reason for you to have it on you to go to the dressmaker. And I know Aunt Prudence can be annoying at times, but surely that would be a bit drastic?' He was using his best policeman attitude on her now, with just a hint of humor around the corners of his mouth as he interrogated her, steadily looking at her, trying to force her hand. 'So, if you are _not_, in fact, planning on going down to Williamson's warehouses today, you would not have a dagger in your garter. So do you have a dagger in your garter, Miss Fisher?'  
He had stepped close to her, and at his last words he reached down toward her skirt, intending to pat her down and see for himself, but she nimbly dodged around him, laughter in her eyes. He just managed to catch her by the wrist, right before she could disappear through the front door, and he pulled her back.  
'This is a serious matter!'  
'Jack,' she laughed, 'You worry too much!'  
'That's not true,' he stated. 'I worry just the right amount.'  
'What's the right amount, really?'  
'Just enough to keep you from ending up in a jail cell. Or the morgue.'  
She rolled her eyes and made another move towards the open door, but his grip on her wrist was too tight. He pulled her into the dining room again to get her away from temptation, and she put up a half-hearted show of protest.  
'Jack! Let me go!'  
'Just show me that your garters are devoid of daggers or similarly lethal devices and you're free to go.'  
She tried to be as dignified as possible. 'You're being completely unreasonable.' With a quick twist of her arm, she had suddenly escaped his grip, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her close to him. Looking straight into her eyes, he tried a different approach.  
'Phryne', he murmured in a warm, low voice, 'You know I'm just trying to keep you safe.' He could see her hesitate slightly, and quickly pressed his advantage. 'I know you can take care of yourself, and I know I shouldn't worry about you, but…' he was maneuvering her against the table now, 'I can't help it. I don't want anything to happen to you.'  
She suddenly realized what he was doing, and threw him a look of mock indignation as she tried to get away, but it was too late: he had trapped her against the table and grinned at her.  
'Now let's see.'  
She caught his hand as he reached for her skirt again, her eyes sparkling, and he realized that, no matter the outcome, she was loving the game.  
'No,' she said, looking him straight in the eye and tilting her chin defiantly. He was undeterred, shaking her off, but she slapped his hand away and tried to push him off. He pressed her more firmly against the table and caught her wrist with one hand, quickly running his other hand down her thigh, but he couldn't feel anything. He had a moment of doubt then – it would be just like her to go through this whole charade out of simple stubbornness – then remembered that the dagger was quite flat and he might not be able to feel it properly, especially since she kept moving. She was positively struggling now, but he was stronger, and he lifted her onto the table and stood between her knees, which assured him access to her skirt. He caught both her wrists and, with one hand, held them together behind her back, pressing her against him. She looked up at him in breathless excitement, and he brought his face very close to hers.  
'Do you surrender?' he murmured.  
She gave him a wicked grin in return. 'Never.'  
He kissed her, taking her by surprise, but she soon returned his kiss eagerly, biting his lip in a way that momentarily took his breath away. He kissed her back, deeply, demandingly, sinking deeper into the kiss with every passing second, distracting her attention from his hand on her knee, creeping slowly under the hem of her skirt. The kiss was affecting him, too, though, and for a moment, he considered the definite advantages of taking her up to the bedroom immediately and to hell with daggers. But even though wasn't thinking entirely straight anymore as her tongue flicked past his lips, he somehow kept his head and slid his hand up her thigh, taking the skirt up, too. He felt the lace of her garter, and then his fingers touched something hard and sharp… and that was when Aunt Prudence walked in.

'Phryne!'  
Aunt Prudence's scandalized voice cut through the air, and they froze, faces inches apart, her skirt up around her hips, his hand high up on her thigh. They had forgotten that the front door was still open, and apparently Aunt Prudence had let herself in. Jack felt paralyzed with horror, but Phryne was shaking with silent laughter as she pushed him away and slid off the table, rearranging her skirt so she was decent again, and walked towards her aunt with a welcoming smile, so coolly collected that Jack couldn't help but admire her. He could feel his own face burning red.  
'Aunt P.!' Phryne exclaimed in apparent delight. 'What a surprise! What brings you here?'  
Aunt Prudence threw her the most scandalized of looks, positively quivering with indignation. 'I was coming to see you, since you haven't seen fit to visit me when I asked you to. Of course, I wasn't aware that you were running a _bordello_.'  
Phryne tilted her head in a let's-be-reasonable kind of way. 'Come now, Aunt P., you know the Inspector.'  
Aunt Prudence turned her icy gaze on Jack, who sincerely wished the ground would open and swallow him right there and then. Since it didn't, he swallowed uncomfortably, put his hands in his pockets, and nodded in Aunt Prudence's direction, not quite meeting her eye.  
'Mrs. Stanley,' he muttered, and she turned away from him in disgust.  
'_Really_ Phryne, it's bad enough that you're seen gallivanting all over Melbourne with this… _policeman_…'  
'Be nice now,' Phryne said warningly, but Prudence was now addressing Jack.  
'Look Inspector, I've always respected you, I'm sure you're good at your job, and I know you are a _decent_ man…' her voice trailed away for a moment as she threw a look at Phryne's skirt that seemed to indicate that she might be revising her opinion about him as a decent man, 'But I _absolutely _can't allow this!'  
'Aunt P.,' Phryne interrupted, throwing Jack a concerned glance over her shoulder, 'I'm sorry we left the door open, but I can still do what I please in my own house.'  
'Quite, my dear, but this has been going on for too long. That's why I wanted to see you. This needs to be dealt with. I didn't say anything when I thought that this was just another one of your… _flirtations_… but he's always here now, and I have to tell you that I do not give you my permission.'  
'Your permission?' Phryne asked coolly, her eyebrows raised.  
Jack was keeping himself in the background resignedly. He had always known Prudence would not deem him worthy of Phryne in the long run, so he supposed they would have had to confront the issue at some point. He just wished he didn't need to be here for this, since this was between them, and the conversation was not exactly buoying his spirits. However, he felt unable to step up to Aunt Prudence, feeling that he wasn't precisely occupying the moral high ground at the moment. The two women were still quarrelling.  
'He's simply not _our_ kind of people, Phryne,' Aunt Prudence was saying, frowning in slight concern that her niece couldn't see that, but Phryne just rolled her eyes.  
'How frightfully old-fashioned of you, Aunt P. And might I point out that you would have thought him a highly suitable match for me if I had still been a penniless girl in Collingwood?'  
'That's neither here nor there,' Aunt Prudence replied with dignity. 'You have to consider your station _now_.'  
'My station is such that I am in the fortunate position of _not _having to care about whom I want to marry,' Phryne was arguing hotly.  
Jack's eyebrows went up. What?  
But Phryne had ruffled her aunt's feathers.  
'One should _always_ care about social proprieties. You are part of a privileged class, and you should behave accordingly.'  
Phryne was shaking her head. 'You are hopelessly outdated, Aunt P. Those notions are simply no longer applicable to our modern society.'  
Prudence threw her an almost pitying look. 'Don't think society changes that quickly, Phryne. On the surface one may observe seemingly great shifts, but morals and values lie much deeper than that, fixed and unchangeable. One should _never_ forget that.'  
Jack had heard enough. He took a step forward.  
'Mrs. Stanley,' he began, calm but firm, 'With all due respect, I think this is not your decision to make.' He went to stand next to Phryne. 'I care a great deal about your niece, and I will never treat her with anything but respect. That should be enough for you.'  
Phryne glanced at him tenderly, but Aunt Prudence turned her cold fury on Jack, drawing herself up formidably.  
'Young man…' she started, but Phryne interrupted before she could get into her stride.  
'I'm sorry, Aunt P. There's no use continuing this conversation.'  
Prudence seemed a bit miffed, but by no means defeated. She observed the two of them with pursed lips for a moment, then turned to leave. At the door however, she turned back at them with raised eyebrows.  
'This isn't over,' she warned them, before walking out the door.

Watching Aunt Prudence storm off in high dudgeon might make Jack feel uncomfortable, but Phryne was as unconcerned as ever. The moment the door closed behind her aunt, she turned to Jack with a grin.  
'Well. That was unfortunate.'  
'Your talent for making understatements is unparalleled.'  
She laughed. 'Well, where were we?'  
She grabbed his jacket and pulled him close, but as far as he was concerned, Aunt Prudence barging in on them and saying he wasn't good enough for Phryne was something of a mood killer. He still felt a little flustered from the shock of her sudden appearance. The position they had been in… He shuddered. It must have looked so much worse than it actually was. He had thought that, having lived with Phryne for several months now, he had long ago reached the highest possible level of embarrassment a person could feel, but apparently he was wrong. Gently, he pushed her away and sat down with a sigh to regain his composure. She sobered up immediately and sat down next to him, putting a hand on his sleeve.  
'Don't mind what Aunt P. says, darling. She's terribly old-fashioned. You know I don't care about any of that, don't you?'  
He nodded. No, he wasn't worried about that, he knew Phryne didn't give a hoot about his 'station in life', or hers for that matter. But there was something else that was niggling at him, and he knew he would regret it if he didn't at least ask.  
'Phryne… you said you didn't need to care about… about whom you wanted to marry?'  
She waved a hand in casual dismissal. 'Oh, never mind that, I didn't mean anything by it. I needed to explain things in the only terms she understands. Aunt P. wouldn't understand how a modern relationship works.'  
And she kissed him on the cheek, got up and walked to the kitchen, saying something about an errand for Dot. He watched her go with a familiar feeling of resigned disappointment at the pit of his stomach, and he wondered. How _did _ 'modern relationships' really work? He wasn't exactly an expert on the matter. If there was no formal agreement, what sense of security did one have? What they had now was fine, for the time being, but it all felt very vague and informal to him. He liked to have things settled and clear-cut. He liked to know where he stood. But he knew he couldn't discuss this with her, at least not yet. Then his mind went back to Aunt Prudence's words about society, and he wondered if he was really causing Phryne trouble in some way he wasn't aware of. He knew she wouldn't bother him with things like that if not strictly necessary, and he hadn't really thought about it much, but he suddenly realized that she had probably encountered her share of the unpleasant things that regularly occurred to him because of their relationship: the snide remarks from friends and colleagues, the sneering jokes, the whispers that would suddenly stop when he entered a room. She wouldn't care, he knew, but still, he didn't like the thought that people would treat her with less respect because of him.

Phryne reappeared from the kitchen and he shook himself mentally and focused back on the situation at hand. She was heading for the hallway, taking up her coat again. He rushed to intercept her.  
'Phryne,' he said seriously, standing close to her and looking her in the eye. 'Don't go to Williamson's.'  
She looked at him for a moment, then seemed to relent, pursing her lips. 'Fine. I won't.'  
'Really?'  
She cocked her head. 'I'm a woman of my word, Inspector. Besides, I'm taking Dot with me to Madame Fleury. See?'  
Dot had appeared from the kitchen with her purse and smiled shyly at Jack as she started to put on her coat.  
'Do you trust me now? You know I wouldn't risk getting Dot in trouble like that.'  
He trusted her. But there was one last thing. He held out his hand, and she sighed.  
'Fine.'  
To the consternation of Dot, who quickly looked away, Phryne lifted her skirt and removed the little dagger from her garter, slapping it down onto Jack's open palm.  
'Happy now?' she said huffily, but there was an amused look in her eyes.  
'Quite,' he smiled, closing his fingers around the sharp little object.  
She kissed him goodbye and the two women left for the dressmaker's. Jack knew he was running late, but he couldn't resist leaning against the doorpost for a few moments, playing with the little dagger and watching Phryne's retreating back. She could be such a pain sometimes, but he flattered himself that he was starting to know how to handle her. He turned away to get his coat and hat, smiling. Undoubtedly she'd disabuse him of that comfortable notion before long.


	23. Chapter 23

_Author's note_: This one is for Izzyandlouie - thanks for the prompt, and for always helping me out whenever I want to discuss something!

As always, reviews are very welcome!

Enjoy!

* * *

They drifted along peacefully in the bright sunlight, not a sound to be heard except the singing of birds and the rhythmic splash of the oars. The boat rocked slightly with every pull – a mellow, soothing movement that made Jack feel at peace with the world as he rowed steadily onwards, enjoying the quiet, the sun on his back, the flow of the river. He loved the sweep of the oars through the clear water, the effortless, tireless exertion that made the boat glide smoothly over the surface, revealing new delights at every stroke: little silvery fish, a bird taking flight, bright flowers, and luscious trees throwing cool shadows over inviting little grassy spots on the bank. He wondered why he had been so resistant when Phryne had first proposed the outing that morning. This was just what he needed. He felt grateful that she had persuaded him after all.

* * *

They drifted along agonizingly slowly in the hot sunlight, not a sound to be heard except some birds chirping in the bushes and the annoying, continual splashing of the oars. The boat rocked with every pull – a lazy, monotonous movement that made Phryne feel restless as she reclined in the stern of the boat, cursing the boredom, the sun in her face, the sluggish pace of the river. Though admittedly the sight was excellent: Jack rowing on steadily in his shirt sleeves, his strong hands on the oars, the muscles on his arms and back rippling deliciously at every stroke. Apart from that, though, there was nothing to see except for some fish and birds, and endless trees and grass on the banks. She wondered why she had been so persistent they take this outing that morning. This wasn't quite as much fun as she had thought it would be. She wished Jack had been more adamant in his objections.

They talked a little, but Jack had been firm from the start that he wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet, and that there was to be no talk whatsoever about the case, the station, police work, or any other daily encumbrance, and he was showing an incomprehensible inclination to discuss mind-numbingly boring things like birds and trees. She sighed as she dangled her fingers in the water. Why had she thought that it would be a good idea for her to be stuck on a tiny boat with nothing to do? Then, to Phryne's relief, the boredom was alleviated somewhat as Jack stopped rowing, rested the oars in the boat, and stretched his back, rolling his shoulders.  
'Alright,' he said, 'I'm going to rest for a moment, and I need something to eat. You take the oars.'  
She lifted her eyebrows. 'Excuse me?'  
'Didn't you say you could row?'  
'_Of course_ I can row,' she replied indignantly. 'But I'm really not planning on performing any kind of strenuous physical exercise in this heat.'  
He rolled his eyes. 'Fine, then switch places with me and just _hold_ the oars while I eat something, if that's not too strenuous for you. Just push us away from the banks if we get too close and we'll be fine.'  
Carefully, they both got up and inched towards each other, the boat rocking precariously as they changed places. Phryne was seized by an almost irresistible desire to give Jack just a _tiny _little push (now that would be fun!) but with a supreme effort of will, she resisted the temptation and sat down on the narrow wooden bench, resting her arms on the oars as she watched Jack take the cover off the lunch basket that Mr. Butler and Dot had filled with all kinds of delicacies, food and drink alike. The slow current of the river carried them onwards, and Phryne looked out dreamily over the water, not really paying much attention to where they were going. When the boat gently bumped against the bank, Jack looked up from his sandwich with an expression of amused exasperation.  
'Really,' he said, shaking his head as Phryne awoke from her daydream and looked around in surprise at the bank they were now stuck against, 'You only had to do one thing.'  
He got up to take over at the exact moment when Phryne, looking over her shoulder, took hold of one of the oars and jabbed sharply at the ground, pushing the boat away from the bank with a quick jolt.  
The subsequent splash made her look round in surprise – Jack had disappeared, a great ring of bubbles in the water on the starboard side indicating whereto. Amazed, she looked on as he surfaced again, spluttering and treading water, and she tried her best to keep a straight face, but he looked so surprised at suddenly finding himself in the water that she couldn't help it – she burst out laughing. He threw her an annoyed look.  
'I suppose that's your idea of fun?'  
But all she could do was shake her head, helpless with laughter, and he growled angrily and struck out for the shore, swearing softly under his breath. A couple of yards away, there was a little sandy beach where he could easily go ashore, so he swam there and got out of the river, water streaming off him, shoes sopping. Finally Phryne collected herself enough to take the oars, and with a few quick, strong strokes she beached the boat and jumped out to pull it further out of the water, until she could be sure it wouldn't drift away. Then she turned to Jack, who was sulkily pouring the water from his shoes. She walked over to him, smiling soothingly.  
'Now don't be cross, it's just a little water.'  
'I'm soaked through,' he grumbled.  
'And it's a nice day. We're in no hurry, we can stay here until you're dry again. This is a lovely spot, actually.' She took a moment to appreciate the sight of his white shirt clinging to his skin, then began to unbutton it. 'Let's get this off. If we lay it out in the sun for a while, it will be dry before you know it.'  
He shot her a sideways glance. 'Are you sure this isn't just a ploy to get me out of my clothes, Miss Fisher?'  
'Now Inspector!' she exclaimed in mock indignation. 'I can't believe you would think I would suggest such a thing out of anything but concern for your health.' And she deftly proceeded to undo his trousers.

A short while later, Jack sat down on the grass wearing nothing but a surly expression and his underwear, which he had stubbornly refused to take off on the grounds of propriety. Phryne spread out the rest of his clothes in the sunny spots on the grass, then sat down next to him. It was a warm day, and though it was cooler in the shadow of the trees, the long hours they had spent on the boat had left her feeling hot and sticky, and the river glistened invitingly. When she started to unbutton her blouse, Jack glanced sideways at her.  
'What are you doing?'  
'Taking off my clothes.'  
He seemed confused. 'Why?'  
'I'm going swimming.'  
'Did you bring your bathing suit?'  
She smiled. He honestly thought she had brought a bathing suit. She raised an eyebrow at him as she got up and stepped out of her skirt, but when she started to take off her underwear, he cottoned on quick enough and got to his feet, protesting.  
'You can't go swimming naked!'  
'Actually, that works perfectly well.'  
'What if someone sees you?'  
'Jack, we've been on the river for hours and we haven't seen a soul.'  
'But…'  
She didn't wait for him to finish his sentence, but deftly removed her underwear and walked to the river.  
The water was deliciously cool on her hot skin, and she sighed in contentment as she waded in until she was deep enough to push off and start swimming. She felt weightless and clean as she glided through the clear water, watching her skin shimmer ghostly white under the surface, enjoying the feeling of being completely free without the encumbrance of a bathing suit. She turned towards the bank, where Jack stood hovering uncertainly at the edge of the water, watching her with a concerned expression. She wished he wouldn't worry so much and enjoy himself a bit more.  
'The water's _lovely_!' she called out to him. 'Why don't you join me?'  
He frowned, apparently struggling with himself. She swam closer to the bank, trying to incentivize him with glimpses of bare skin under the water, and he smiled knowingly, well aware of what she was doing. She grinned back and treaded water as she looked at him.  
'Come _on_ Jack! There's nobody here.'  
He was swayed, she could see it. He glanced around furtively before stepping out of his underwear and diving straight into the water. When he surfaced and pushed back his wet hair, she saw that he was laughing. That was the great thing about Jack, she reflected. He wasn't quick to let go, but when he did, he surprised her every time with his capacity for joy, finding pleasure in the simplest things, seeming to enjoy them more thoroughly than she ever could, appreciating them so fully. Like now. He had swum to the middle of the river and now floated there peacefully, a content smile on his features as he drifted along, allowing the current to carry him downstream at a leisurely pace as he enjoyed the sun on his face. She watched him fondly as he flipped and dove, swimming back against the current with a strong, clean stroke. A moment later, he appeared right in front of her, a smile in his eyes.  
'Thank you for persuading me.'  
'Can I use this for future reference?'  
'No. This is a one-time thing.'  
'Fair enough,' she replied cheerfully, then grabbed his shoulders and pushed him under. When he surfaced again, spluttering and surprised, she was already several yards away, laughing. He grinned and swam after her, catching her easily and picking her up, threatening to dip her under as well, but she threw her arms around his neck and he relented, settling for a kiss instead. The moment his guard was down, she slipped away again, but he caught her around her waist before she could get very far, and held her close. The water wasn't very deep here, and her feet found the sandy bottom as she leaned back against him, surrendering.  
'I've got you,' he whispered in her ear, but she didn't mind. His arms were around her, and she had no desire to change that.

When his hand started wandering downwards from her waist, his other arm still holding her firmly against him, she smiled in delight, and her body tensed slightly in anticipation. She had never known anyone with such clever hands as Jack, his fingers moving delicately yet confidently, never failing to illicit an immediate reaction from her. She didn't know how he did it, how he always sensed what she wanted, how he always found the right spot. Perhaps it was because he played the piano. Perhaps it was simply because he was Jack. But as they stood stationary with the river flowing past them, his skilful fingers stroked her and she didn't care about anything anymore - she leaned her head against him with a sigh that quickly turned into a moan as the pleasure washed over her. She was still amazed every time at how easily he was able to make her body react, taking her breath away, making her knees weak until she had to throw an arm around his neck to keep from slipping down. He nuzzled her ear as he kept up his exploration and she wanted him, she wanted him so, but he wouldn't let her turn around, keeping her pressed tightly against him, and at that moment his fingers found the right spot and she was past resistance. A trembling moan escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes at the delight of his touch, yes, yes, right there. Only moments later she felt the tension build, and she gasped sharply as an intense rush of pleasure shot through her, leaving her breathless and tingling, leaning against his chest.  
It wasn't enough. If anything, she wanted him more now.  
He turned her around and pressed his mouth to hers, and she responded with enthusiasm, putting her arms around his neck, and he lifted her effortlessly so she could wrap her legs around him. When she guided him in, he groaned and grasped her hips tightly. The water carried most of her weight, so she was able to move as he remained still, keeping them balanced in the moving current, his hands guiding her movements as she took him in deeply, throwing back her head as she found a rhythm. She loved the novelty of the situation, how thrilling it was out in the open, in the river, the wetness of their skin, the weightlessness, the cool water rushing past them, sensations adding to their enjoyment. Suddenly he grasped her tighter, burying his face against her chest, and she felt him shudder and almost lose his footing as he pulled her down onto him one last time, then held her hips so she stilled. He rested his head against her for a moment, breathing hard, then looked up with a smile and she bent down to kiss him.

They spent the better part of an hour in the river, swimming upstream and drifting lazily back downstream, or kissing endlessly in the shallower parts near the bank. Finally she got tired and a little cold, and they decided to get out and see if Jack's clothes were dry yet, so they could start heading back with their boat.  
She walked out of the river ahead of him, and she could feel his eyes on her, watching the water trickle down her white skin. When she shivered in a cool breeze that made her nipples harden, she noticed he got that look again, and she felt a tingle when he pulled her close.  
'Are you cold?' he murmured, brushing her lips with his as he let his hands wander down her bare back.  
She gave him a languorous smile. 'I'm getting warmer.'  
He laid her down on the soft grass in the dappled light of the sun that filtered through the canopy of the trees, covering her with his body, and she was grateful for his warmth as he kissed her deeply. Then he moved down, and when his lips closed around her cold nipple, she gasped loudly – his mouth was almost unbearably hot, but the sensation was exquisite, making goose bumps erupt all over her body. When one nipple was thoroughly warmed up, he moved to the other one, making her gasp again as she tangled her hands in his hair, keeping him there as the heat of his mouth against her cold skin made her shiver. By the time he was trailing hot kisses down her stomach, she was already out of breath, and she eagerly opened her legs to him, yearning to feel him.  
When he pressed his warm mouth to her, the wave of pleasure that washed over her was so strong, she almost succumbed to it right then and there as she cried out and arched her back, but she wanted it to last. He seemed to sense it, because he pulled back a little and started kissing her on the inside of her thighs, until she was squirming for him to continue. He pushed in his tongue, and she threw her head back with a sigh. Of all the lovers she had ever had, he was the most intent on her pleasure, placing it firmly and continually before his own, rarely allowing his own needs to make him forget hers. Sometimes she wished he would let go a bit more, let himself be carried away by the moment, but on the whole there was no denying that she loved this in him. He seemed to derive real satisfaction and pleasure from watching her, touching her, never seeming to tire of it. Perhaps this was because female pleasure were still so new to him, perhaps he was genuinely selfless – she didn't really care – she was enjoying it too much to care.  
He was taking his time, moving up to manipulate her with his tongue until she moaned, then going down to taste her, over and over again until she begged him to stop… no… don't stop, please don't stop – oh – yes, that's… oh! Her hands gripped the grass as she cried out, and before the sensation had fully left her he had moved on top of her, his mouth on hers, greedily, as he pushed in hard and deep, sending her immediately over the edge again as she gripped him convulsively and cried out again and again, and everything was Jack, Jack, Jack.

* * *

When she walked out of the river in front of him, he couldn't keep his eyes off her as he watched the water stream down her body, her white skin glistening irresistibly in the sunlight. He saw her shiver in the cool breeze, and took his chance to pull her close, running his hands down her back.  
'Are you cold?'  
The smile she gave him in return made him swallow hard, and he barely heard her reply as he laid her down on the grass and kissed her hungrily. Her skin was cold to the touch, but he knew he'd get her warm soon enough. Closing his warm mouth around her nipple, he heard her gasp loudly and noticed goose bumps on her skin. He loved having this effect on her, loved to make her body react. After taking care to warm up her other nipple, he couldn't resist the temptation of warming up other parts as well, so he moved down, and smiled as she willingly opened her thighs for him. When he pressed his warm mouth to her, she reacted so violently that he pulled back for an instant, unwilling to have it over so soon, so he kissed her, waiting for her to calm down again before pushing in gently with his tongue. To his surprise, he could hardly taste her – the effects of the river, he realized. Well, that needed to be remedied immediately. He knew where to touch her for almost instant results, where to lick and kiss, and he loved to hear her moan as he struck a rhythm, only to interrupt it at regular intervals to go down and taste her, until she was thoroughly wet and he could taste her again. It wasn't until she begged him to stop moving around that he realized he was teasing her, and with a smile he focused exclusively on the one spot until she begged him _not _to stop… he could feel her tense… this was the best part… he could feel his own excitement building but he ignored it – just a little longer. When she cried out and convulsed beneath him, he could only keep it up for a few more seconds, then pushed himself up while she was still shivering and covered her body with his, unable to wait any longer as he thrust inside, hard, deep, and she was so warm around him it was an exquisite torment to hold back as she wrapped her legs around him and cried out again, and he was gone from the world as everything was Phryne.


	24. Chapter 24

_Note from the author: I can't believe it's almost been a year since I last updated this series. I've been very busy with RL, where I've been lucky enough to get some actual writing jobs. I'm very, VERY glad to return to the Phrack though! I want to thank all of the lovely folks on Tumblr who have encouraged me to start writing again. You are all so amazing and wonderful!_

_To be honest, I'm posting this new chapter with some trepidation. I have been writing in my mother tongue for months now, and I feel like my English is a little rusty. I apologize in advance for any errors of spelling, grammar or idiom, and any clichéd, repetitive or unoriginal turn of phrase you might encounter._

_Also, I've been writing for the theater, which obviously is a completely different genre. It was nice to return to the more narrative structure of this story, but again, I feel a little rusty. I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I suppose I just have to get into the flow of things again. I'm sorry if this chapter is not entirely up to scratch, and I will work to improve :-)_

_As to the chapter itself: it is inspired by a case that was treated in season 3, and therefore contains slight spoilers for one of the episodes. Just so you know._  
_I've also done some research for this, so it should be more or less historically accurate. If you have trouble forming a picture, you can Google the brand name._

_And finally: this chapter is for Julia. Thank you for your kind words._

The sky outside was clear and blue. The sound of the birds, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon drifting from the kitchen and the memory of lazy morning sex with Phryne, a ghost of the touch of her fingers and mouth still fresh on his skin – well, Jack reflected, things just didn't get any better than this on a Sunday morning. He sat back with a contented sigh as Mr. Butler came and served him coffee, thoroughly enjoying the domesticity of it all. Next to him, Phryne was reading the newspaper, munching on a piece of buttered toast. There was a tranquil day ahead of them. Life was good.

Jack was just starting with gusto on a big plate of eggs and bacon when Mr. Butler brought in a square package, wrapped in brown paper, and handed it to Phryne.  
"This came in the mail this morning, miss."  
She took it from him with an exclamation of delight. "Ah, it came! Thank you Mr. Butler."  
But despite her enthusiasm, she put the package next to her plate and did not unwrap it. Jack threw it a curious glance.  
"What's in it?"  
She smiled mysteriously but did not reply. Thoughtfully chewing his bacon, his eyes still on the package, Jack hesitated if he would ask again. He was fully prepared to respect her right to privacy, but she had never kept anything hidden from him before, and his curiosity was piqued.  
"Phryne?"  
She winked at him. "I'll show you later. It's not the sort of thing a lady opens at the breakfast table."  
Fully intrigued now, Jack kept glancing over at the package as he finished his breakfast, speculating about what it could possibly contain that she couldn't open it at the table. Lingerie? Family planning devices? Had Mr. Lawrence written a sequel? He had to admit that he was curious.

When breakfast was over, he curiously followed Phryne and the mystery box up the stairs to her bedroom, where she carefully closed the door behind them before unwrapping the package. It contained a blue cardboard box with the words 'POLAR CUB' stamped across them, above a picture of a woman holding an electric device that looked vaguely familiar.  
"What is that, one of those newfangled hair dryers? I thought you already had one? Did it break?"  
She threw him an amused look. "No, my hair dryer is perfectly fine. This is the same brand, though."  
She opened the box and revealed a bulky device with a bluish handle attached to a round, grey metal head that looked like it might hold some kind of engine. The box contained several smaller pieces that could apparently be attached to the device. It had a long electrical cord coming out of the handle. Suddenly something clicked in Jack's mind and he recoiled as he recognized the thing.  
"Phryne, is that a… a…"  
"A vibrating device, yes," she replied happily, taking it out of the box and examining it.  
"Like the _murder weapon _ of our last case, you mean?"  
"A slightly newer model, yes."  
"But…" he spluttered, staring at her. "Miss Fisher, that thing killed someone!"  
"Only because it was tampered with," she said in a soothing tone. "I'm sure this one is perfectly functional."  
"You don't actually plan on _using_ it?" he exclaimed, horrified.  
She looked up at him, amazed. "Of course I plan on using it. What did you think I ordered it for, research purposes?"  
"Well, I…"  
"I had a very good one a couple of years ago but I, ah, wore it out," she smiled. "I never got round to ordering a new one, but our case last week reminded me."  
He stared at her, lost for words.  
"Don't worry," she assured him, "They're perfectly safe. I've been using them for years. Not as good as the real thing, of course, but they'll do for lonely nights."  
He shot the device in her hand a suspicious look.  
"Come on, Jack," she said, surprised. "I thought you said you'd seen one before?"  
"Yes," he said emphatically, "in a _brothel_."  
She laughed. "Well if you thought this was a house of good repute, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you."  
He struggled with himself as he watched her examine the device with interest.  
"Look," he finally brought out, "Why do you need one?"  
"They're fun," she said simply, now taking the attachment pieces out of the box one by one.  
He opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling to find the right words. "Am I… are you not… am I doing something wrong?"  
She looked up in genuine surprise and finally seemed to realize what was bothering him. "What? No, of course not!" Putting down the box, she quickly came to him and put her arms around his neck with a warm and open smile. "You're wonderful, you know you are."  
"Then why…?"  
"Just for fun! This has nothing to do with your skills, darling, don't worry."  
She kissed him and, feeling reassured, he kissed her back. There was a gleam of excitement in her eyes when she pulled back.  
"Let's try it out!"  
He frowned. "Should I… give you some privacy?"  
Though he had watched her masturbate once or twice before and found it incredibly arousing, he somehow didn't feel like he needed to see this. She laughed.  
"Of course not! I meant we could try it out together."  
He shuddered as he took an involuntary step back.  
"No thank you."  
She shot him a naughty look. "You might like it too, you know."  
He felt himself go pale. "There is no way I'm letting that electrocution hazard near my…"  
She laughed again. "Jack! I thought you'd have gotten more adventurous by now."  
That stung. He scowled at her, then tried a different tack. "Isn't it just for women?"  
"Not necessarily. The general principle should make it enjoyable for men, too. Look, let me show you. Sit down."  
She selected a dangerous-looking piece from the box and attached it to the head of the device, then turned around to plug it in. When she turned back, he hadn't moved and was still eyeing the vibrator suspiciously. She raised her eyebrows at him.  
"It won't bite, you know."  
He grudgingly gave in and sat down, perching on the very edge of the bed. She turned on the switch and the device began to hum loudly. As she came over to the bed and sat down next to him, Jack leaned away from her apprehensively. She looked at him, amused.  
"Don't worry, we don't have to start with any… sensitive parts. Just give me your hand."  
Feeling like that was a reasonable request, he slowly held out his hand to her. She took it in her own hand, then gently held the head of the vibrator to his open palm. He gasped and jerked his hand away reflexively – the intensity of the vibrations had taken him by surprise. It wasn't unpleasant, though, so he held his hand back out to her. She smiled and pressed the device to his palm again, this time moving it around a bit, massaging his hand. To his surprise, he actually found the sensation quite pleasant.  
"See?" she said smugly. "Not too bad, is it?"  
"I suppose not," he replied, relaxing a little. "It's quite nice, really."  
"Did you really think we'd use it on such a… sensitive area… if it wasn't?"  
"No," he smiled, "That's true."  
When she removed the buzzing device and lowered it, he tensed again, but she only put it against his thigh, just above his knee.  
"How does that feel?"  
"Unusual…" he admitted. "But quite pleasant."  
She moved the vibrator to the inside of his thigh and he gasped as the vibrations shot up his leg. "Alright… very pleasant."  
Suppressing a smile, she slowly but deliberately started moving the device up the inside of his thigh, and he sharply sucked in his breath and leaned back. The sensation was getting increasingly enjoyable, and as she moved upwards and he felt the vibrations more strongly, he began to feel a tightening, a sharp stirring of arousal. He was surprised at how fast his excitement suddenly increased, especially given the fact that they had made love mere hours ago, but the pulsing waves that rippled through his leg seemed to turn him on from the inside out. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment as the delicious sensation overwhelmed him. Phryne kept inching upwards, until she finally reached the upper part of his thigh, where he was straining almost painfully against the fabric of his trousers.  
"Alright, stop… stop!" he gasped, before she could go any further. He was afraid of what might happen if she actually touched him with the buzzing thing, partly because he still didn't quite trust it, but partly because he feared he might not be able to maintain control.  
Respecting his boundaries, she immediately pulled the vibrator away and switched it off with a small triumphant smile on her lips.  
"Still think it's exclusively suited for women, Inspector?"  
"Not… not really, no," he replied, a bit breathless. He took a couple of deep breaths to regain his composure, then held out his hand for the device. She handed it over to him with a raised eyebrow and he examined it closely. The principle was simple yet effective, he concluded, marveling at the things people invented nowadays. He switched it on and noticed how the vibrations were quite strong in the handle, too, and made his hand tingle. He switched it off again and turned to Phryne with a smile.  
"Well… won't it work best if you're wearing less clothes?"  
She looked at him in delighted surprise and immediately began unbuttoning her blouse. He grinned. She might be contrary a lot of the time, but when it came to taking off her clothes, he never had to ask her twice. His own desire, still smoldering, flared again as he watched her undress, and he decided to even things out and got undressed too. Her naked body was a temptation he could not resist, so when she lay down and made herself comfortable among the pillows, he lay down next to her and kissed her, running a hand down her body, cupping a breast and pinching a nipple in passing. She gasped and shifted slightly, moving her hips against him, and all thoughts of vibrators were nearly forgotten as they lost themselves in another kiss. With an effort of will, Jack finally pulled back and sat up, taking a moment to catch his breath and clear his head. She let him go regretfully, but when he reached out for the vibrator, her eyes gleamed excitedly and she quickly lay back, squirming slightly in anticipatory delight. When he turned on the device, Jack noticed that her body tensed at the sound, knowing what to expect. As he kneeled between her legs, she bit her lip, closed her eyes and gripped the sheet. She was already breathing fast, and when he pressed the vibrating head against her, she immediately threw back her head and moaned. He applied gentle pressure, and she gasped loudly, reaching with one hand above her head to grasp the headboard as her body tensed and trembled and…  
Taken by surprise, Jack quickly pulled back the quivering device and she uttered a yell of indignation as he looked at it, amazed.  
"That happened very fast."  
"It didn't happen at all! Why on earth did you stop?"  
He shook his head at her teasingly. "Not so hasty."  
"That was a very ungentlemanly thing to do", she protested, disgruntled, and he grinned broadly.  
"Apologies, m'lady. I'll make it up to you."  
"You'd better," she grumbled, then smiled and lay back down.  
This time, however, Jack took a more circumspect approach. It was his turn now to tease her with slowly increasing pleasure, and he took no notice of her plaintive 'Jack!' as he pressed the device against the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. She fidgeted restlessly as he slowly moved it upwards, ever closer, until she made soft sounds of impatience. At the very top of her thigh, he let the device rest for a moment, allowing the vibrations to wash over her until she tensed in anticipation, then he pulled back again. With a frustrated exclamation, she lifted her head to shoot him an angry look, but he simply lifted an eyebrow and deliberately lowered the vibrator again. When he held it against her other leg and restarted his slow progress upwards, she let her head fall onto the pillow again with a tormented sigh.  
"You're a monster, Jack Robinson."  
He smiled but didn't reply, concentrating on making his way along the inside of her thigh as slowly as possible without her losing interest. Her breathing quickened again, and she squirmed, straining her hips to make him hurry up. Reaching the top of her leg, he paused again for a moment, teasing her with the possibility of more delay, until a small plaintive sound escaped from her lips, and he finally gave in and pressed the device where she wanted it. She arched her back and moaned loudly, gripping the sheets tightly as he applied some pressure. Her entire body tensed and trembled violently, and when he moved the vibrator in small circles, she threw back her head and cried out his name, three, four times as she convulsed, then fell back, gasping and quivering. A bit awed, he turned off the device and put it away on the bedside table, then hurried to take her into his arms. She was still shivering slightly, and it was clear that she wasn't satisfied yet when she returned his kisses hungrily. Her eyes were dark with longing as she pressed herself against him and he shuddered with pent-up desire.  
"I want you… now", she whispered, but he managed to keep his self-control just one moment longer to tease her.  
"I don't know… would that be quite the gentlemanly thing to do?"  
"Oh, stop it", she hissed, nipping at his jaw.  
"As m'lady commands", he replied, his voice husky with desire.  
He allowed himself to be pushed onto his back and rumbled his approval as she straddled him, his hands on her hips to guide her movements. Never one for waiting, she immediately lifted her hips and sank down on him, extinguishing his every thought as pleasure washed over him so suddenly he moaned and closed his eyes in pure bliss. He didn't keep them closed very long, though, since the view was excellent and he didn't want to miss it. She leaned forward to kiss him, and he took the opportunity to run his hand through her hair and down her back, groaning as she drove him to distraction with one delicate movement of her hips. Suddenly she straightened again, and he watched, only dimly aware of what she was doing, how she took the vibrator from the nightstand and smiled at him as she turned it on. Still moving her hips, she pressed it against herself and Jack gasped in surprise and gripped her hips tightly as he felt the vibrations reach him, too. The sensation was exquisite, sending shivers along his spine until he couldn't bear it anymore. Closing his eyes tightly, he cried out and felt the pleasure engulf him completely.  
Hazy and drained, he was vaguely aware of Phryne turning off the vibrator before collapsing onto his chest. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hair, sighing and closing his eyes in utter contentment. When her breathing had slowed down, she looked up at him with a wicked grin.  
"_Well_…"  
"Yes, yes", he interposed lazily, "You were right. You're always right." He was too comfortable and fulfilled to argue.  
"And don't you forget it", she purred, nestling her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "Was it worth it, to brave the dangers of electrocution?"  
He considered the question for a moment, already getting drowsy. "Sure," he mumbled, giving himself over to sleep. "There are worse ways to go."


	25. Chapter 25

_"__The course of true love never did run smooth_", Jack read, and smiled. He often found phrases in Shakespeare that seemed strangely applicable to real life, but this one was particularly accurate for his relationship with Phryne, he felt. Except for her hair, nothing was ever smooth with Phryne. He didn't mind though – it certainly kept things interesting. He smiled again and lazily turned a page, returning his attention to the book in his hand, a beautiful old leather-bound copy of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ that he had found in a second-hand book shop. It wasn't his favorite play – he was more fond of the dramas than the comedies – but he had brought it over because he thought Phryne might enjoy it, and while he was waiting for her tonight, he had spotted it on her bedside table and had not been able to resist the temptation of flipping through it again.

He was lying on the bed, relaxed and fully immersed in the story when Phryne entered, softly closing the door behind her.  
"Sorry it took so long."  
"That's quite alright. I was just rereading. It's interesting how the Bard still manages to include these little gems of wisdom even in an otherwise ludicrous setting."  
"I'll take your word for it," she said as she sat down next to him on the bed and kissed him.  
"Won't you at least give it a try?" he asked.  
"You know I don't have the patience for Shakespeare, darling. Not to read it, anyway. But you can recite it to me anytime you want", she smiled, leaning in for another kiss.  
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind / And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind", Jack quoted promptly in his deep voice, not even looking at the text, but putting the book away to focus exclusively on her.  
"Perfect", she whispered, and he pulled her down into his arms and kissed her properly, sighing with the simple pleasure of holding her.  
"What took you so long?" he murmured, kissing her neck.  
"Well", she started, her eyes sparkling. "I had a little talk with Dot."  
"Really? What about?"  
"Her wedding night."  
"Oh… I see." She had his full attention now.  
"Of course, I didn't want to rush it."  
"Of course", he echoed. "So… um… how did it go?"  
"Quite well, actually. She's not nearly as shy and innocent as she was when I first met her, thank heavens. Though she still looked quite surprised at some of the things I told her, the lamb", she added fondly.  
"I'm sure she did", Jack said, amused.  
"Well, it's better to be prepared, don't you think?"  
"Absolutely", he agreed earnestly. Then something very awkward occurred to him. "Phryne? You don't expect me to… to have the same talk with Hugh now, do you?" He got a squirming feeling of embarrassment just by thinking about talking to the younger man about these kinds of things, but Phryne quickly reassured him.  
"Already taken care of", she replied happily. "I loaned him _Erotica of the Far East_, oh, ages ago. A book which _you_ have found very instructive, I know." She grinned, and he smiled back, too relieved that he was spared an awkward conversation to mind that he was being teased.  
"Anyway," Phryne continued. "I offered the same book to Dot, but she wouldn't touch it, so I had to talk to her instead. I'm afraid it was an uncomfortable half hour for her, but at least now she's prepared", she finished with a satisfied air. "I've done my duty."  
"Is she scared?" he asked.  
"Not my Dot!" Phryne replied proudly. "Although she is slightly nervous, of course, but that's only normal. After all, it's a big event for any young woman."  
"Yes, I understand that." Jack looked at her silently for a minute, and when he spoke his tone was serious. "She's very lucky to have you."  
"It was nothing", she said, but she seemed pleased nonetheless. Something in his voice seemed to grab her attention though, because she suddenly turned to him. "Is there any particular reason for your concern for Dot, Jack?"  
He looked away, avoiding her eye and clearing his throat before he answered. "No, not really. I just think it's important, that's all."  
He was aware that she was looking at him closely, and could almost feel her deduce certain things. He rather hoped she wouldn't, but she asked the question anyway, in a tone carefully kept light.  
"What was your wedding night like?"  
Now that it was out there, he felt that he might as well be honest. He looked up at her with a wry smile.  
"Awkward. Very awkward. Look, we were both so young, and nobody had bothered to tell us… well, anything really." He felt a sudden stab of regret. _Poor Rosie_.  
Phryne seemed to have followed his train of thought. "She was your first, I suppose?" she continued, gently.  
"Of course", he answered, then rolled onto his back with a sigh, passing a hand over his eyes in a tired gesture. "Phryne, what did I know about women? I had no idea what I was doing, and neither did she. Frankly, I was terrified. We both were."  
"I'm sorry", she said, her voice full of empathy.  
He forced himself to smile. "It's alright. I suppose it must have been more or less the same for everyone back then. That's why I'm glad you talked to Dot", he continued seriously. "It's important that she knows what to expect."  
"Well, she certainly does now", Phryne smiled, bringing the conversation back to a lighter tone. "And I threw in some advice for good measure."  
Jack laughed. "I'm sure Hugh will be very grateful for that."  
"I think so too", she grinned, then pushed herself up off the bed. "I'm going to change for bed."  
But when she had disappeared into the bathroom and he heard water running, Jack's mood turned somber again as his thoughts involuntarily returned to Rosie and that first night, before the War, when they were newly married. Even though he knew he wasn't to blame, it was a painful memory, and as he undressed, he wished for the hundredth time that it could have gone another way. If he had known then what he knew now, everything might have been so different. He got into bed with a sigh, and as he lay there, waiting for Phryne, he let his mind wander.

_It was cold in the little room. An early autumn chill had crept in through the window and had not yet been vanquished by the little fire the landlady had lit for them in the hearth. Shivering in his underwear, Jack emerged nervously from the tiny bathroom, hoping that he had given Rosie enough time to change. He had no idea how long women usually took to get ready, but when he entered the bedroom she was already in bed, the covers drawn up to her chin – whether because she was cold or shy was beyond Jack to deduce. At the soft click of the door closing behind him, she sharply turned her head to look at him with eyes that were dark and apprehensive in the scarce light of the fire.  
"Can I… Is it okay if I come in?"  
"Yes, yes of course", she replied, before returning her gaze to the wooden beams of the ceiling. She looked so forlorn, so small and frightened, alone in the big bed, that he suddenly forgot his nerves and rushed to her so he could hold her, protect her, make her feel warm and loved. _

_As he drew back the covers and climbed, shivering, into bed with her, she turned her head a little and gave him a fleeting smile that made his heart flutter madly, but then she returned her eyes to the ceiling with a scared but determined expression that made him forget his outburst of chivalry as he was drowned, once again, in nerves. The day had passed in a haze for Jack, a haze of flowers and music and far too many people, but always there had been Rosie's smile, making him feel dizzy with happiness whenever he saw her. There had been moments of dazzling sunlight flashing out from between the clouds, and finally running towards the car in the pouring rain, hand in hand as people behind them waved and cheered, to collapse, panting, soaked and laughing in the car to leave for their honeymoon in the hills. _

_But in the cold, half-lit gloom of their hotel room, the laughter left them as their situation suddenly became very real. They were awkward and clumsy around each other, not knowing what to say, what to do. Rosie was a brave and strong woman, even then, but she was also a girl, young, inexperienced, taken that morning from the house of her father never to go back there, by this man with whom she had never spent more than a few hours alone. Jack felt for her, he really did, but having come only recently from the Cadet Academy, he knew about as much about women as he knew about giraffes, and he felt it keenly. He was at a loss about what to do with this slender young girl, who had wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stay warm. His first impulse was to go and comfort her, but he had never been good with spontaneous shows of affection, and she was not inviting him in. Still, he knew that he had to do something, because they couldn't just keep standing there on opposite sides of the room, avoiding each other's eye and dripping on the carpet. In the end, Jack removed his coat and shoes and put them by the fire to dry. Rosie did the same, and when she was standing close to him in the soft glow of the flames, he carefully took her in his arms and pulled her against him. She returned his embrace, but stiffly, and when he leaned in to kiss her, she lowered her face and asked him in a murmur if he would give her a moment to change. _

_He understood that she was scared and nervous about what they were about to do, but lying beside her in the slowly warming bed, it hurt him to see her so detached from him. He stroked her hair timidly as he wondered if anyone had talked to her and told her what to expect. Rosie's mother had died when Rosie was still a small girl, so Jack suspected that her apprehension was caused at least partially by fear of the unknown. But someone, probably a well-meaning aunt or friend, had apparently told her that it was going to be painful, he could see that from the way she held herself stiffly even as he caressed her. He had heard the stories too, whispered by buddies in the Academy, how it hurt for women, especially the first time, and to be honest, he wasn't at all keen on inflicting her any pain. It seemed like a brutal and cruel thing to do to the vulnerable person lying next to him. _

_"__Rosie…" he whispered, and she finally turned her head and looked at him. "Rosie, if you want, we can wait a few days… you know… until we get used to each other a bit." He was half hoping that she would say yes, because he was scared, too, scared of not doing it right, scared of hurting her. He felt supremely unprepared for this moment, with nothing but some borrowed pictures of scantily clad ladies for education about the female body, and nothing but some advice from equally uninformed peers, half of which he didn't believe anyway. But the life finally seemed to return to her eyes as she firmly shook her head.  
"No, I don't want to wait."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes. Now that we're married, we should properly be like husband and wife."  
He got such a strong sense that she just wanted to get it over with already that he began to insist they wait, but at that moment she turned towards him and shifted a bit closer, allowing herself to be taken into his arms, and when he looked into her eyes he was lost. She was so lovely. He bent his head to softly kiss her lips, and felt desire stir within him, a longing for her which was urgent and strong for all that it was undefined. He decided to stop his worrying and to let his body take the lead. As he kissed her more deeply, he finally felt her respond to him. She seemed to relax a little, fitting her body more easily into his, and opening her mouth a little to allow him in. When she timidly stroked his shoulder, he felt brave enough to let his hand wander from her waist, his heart thumping almost painfully in his throat as he gently traced his fingers over the white cotton of her night gown until he reached a breast. She drew back from him, a little breathless, and he was afraid that he had lost her again until he saw her raise a hesitating hand to undo the laces at the front of the night gown. The fabric fell open to reveal a breast and Jack felt his mouth go dry. He touched her, fingers trembling slightly, marveling at how soft her skin was, how perfectly the curve of her breast fit in his hand. When he brushed the small pink nipple, she gasped and he drew back his hand as if he'd touched something hot.  
"Did I hurt you?" he whispered, his voice huskier than usual.  
"No…" she replied, seeming surprised by her own reaction.  
To be on the safe side, though, he didn't do it again, but instead drew her closer and kissed her. Urged on by a tension in his loins that was fast becoming unbearable despite his apprehensions, he slid his hand down over her hips, gently stroking her thigh until he found the hem of her night gown. Receiving her nod of permission, he lifted it as she rolled on to her back. Continuing his kisses on her lips, her cheek, her neck, he let his fingers trace upwards along her inner thigh until he felt soft down, then something warm and soft. She stiffened under him and he immediately withdrew his hand and looked at her. Her lips were pale and her eyes were dark and glittering, whether from excitement or fear he couldn't tell. The determined look had returned to her face.  
"Alright," she whispered. "I'm ready."  
He wasn't sure she was, but he wanted to hold her so badly that he obeyed her without much thinking and took off his underwear. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, not looking at him as he undressed. He gently placed his weight on her and pushed up her night gown even further so he could lie between her thighs. He felt an awkward mixture of nerves and an overpowering desire that made him shake as he reached down again to feel his way. He had no idea what he was going to encounter there, precisely – the few pictures his friends had given him had shown nothing but emptiness between the legs, but he had a vague idea of what to expect. Still, his mind reeled as his gently probing fingers found warm, soft folds that yielded to his touch and left his fingers just a little damp. His desire for her became almost painful, and he had to clench his jaw to maintain control over his own body.  
"Please Jack," she whispered, still lying stiffly under him. "Please just… just do it."  
Even though he felt dazed with suppressed desire, he hesitated again, not wanting to do anything that might be unpleasant for her. When she sensed his hesitation, she looked into his eyes. Her expression was unreadable in the dying light of the fire.  
"If we don't do it now, it will have to be tomorrow or… or the day after that. It won't be too bad if you're careful." She tried to smile and he felt his heart go out to her. He would do anything she asked of him. He just wanted her to let him love her. _

_As carefully as he could, he placed himself at what he thought must be the right spot and gently pushed. Nothing happened, and she shifted uncomfortably. He tried again, blindly feeling his way until he found a small opening, then he pushed again and this time he slid inside just a little bit. He encountered resistance and he felt her tense, but she urged him on again with a pleading 'Jack', and as he gently pushed in deeper, the resistance suddenly gave way to an exquisite, throbbing heat that enveloped him and made him gasp for breath. He barely registered her soft little cry, as pleasure such as he had never imagined washed over him and made him moan. He pulled back and pushed back in, as carefully as he could manage, but a soft whimper from her made him stop, trembling, as he gazed concernedly down at her. She was biting her lip, and he wanted to pull back, slightly panicked, but she held him where he was.  
"No, don't stop now, it doesn't really hurt much."  
As gently as he could, he pushed back in, and again, all the while looking down at her, hoping to get some response from her, but she grasped the sheet and lay unmoving under him. He couldn't take it any more – fire ran through his body as he pushed in one more time, and he uttered a hoarse cry as a new, intense wave of pleasure washed over him. He shuddered and collapsed on top of her, breathless and sweating. Very quickly though, he came to his senses again and lifted himself up on an elbow to get his weight off of her. He looked at her with concern.  
"Are you alright?"  
"Yes," she whispered back, and he noticed that she seemed relieved that it was over. He rolled off of her and kissed her, stroking her hips and her thighs until he noticed something wet on his fingers.  
"Oh God, you're bleeding! I hurt you!"  
"It's alright," she calmed him. "It's supposed to bleed a little."  
"Are you sure?" He felt a bit panicky. He had heard the same thing, but it had been one of the things he had dismissed as nonsense. If he had known beforehand that he would hurt her until she bled, he would never have done it, he swore to himself. She pushed herself up on an elbow and winced a bit.  
"Yes, I'm sure… though I don't know if… if there's supposed to be this much blood…" she looked a bit scared, but quickly regained her composure as she saw him grow pale. "No, it's fine, I'm fine, don't worry about it."  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, but she just shook her head and patted him on the arm.  
"It's alright, it's normal. It will only bleed once and then it will never hurt again, so I'm glad it's over now. It wasn't so bad. Honestly."_

_But when she left the bed to go wash herself in the bathroom, he couldn't take his eyes off the dark spot of blood on the sheets and felt a painful, burning sensation of guilt and shame settle in his stomach._

"Jack? Are you alright?"  
He was jolted back into the present by Phryne's voice as she emerged from the bathroom in her silver kimono, her hair a little damp and a concerned look on her face. He shook his head to clear it, then tried to smile at her.  
"Just a bit lost in thought."  
She sat down at her dressing table and began to remove her make-up, and Jack returned to his thoughts. Rosie had seemed fine the next day. She was positively cheerful at breakfast, chatting happily with the landlady, clearly exulting in her new status as a married woman. But it had taken Jack longer to recover from the shock. It had taken him days before he had dared to touch her again, and she seemed quite content with that, certainly never initiating any form of intimacy herself. When he finally did try again, more than anything driven by a desire to feel closer to her, she had not objected but had not encouraged him either, just lying there impassively until he was done. It had not made him feel better.  
It was not, Jack reflected now, that Rosie had been unfeeling. He was sure that she had loved him back then, sure that she was happy with him. She had always been a clever, strong woman, and he had loved her for that, but she had lacked warmth, something she never seemed to have learnt to express. She also seemed to lack any desire for physical intimacy other than a simple hug or a kiss now and then. He wondered now if that was simply her way, or if it would have been different if he had known what to do, if he would have been able to awaken that part of her.  
It had gotten better of course, over time. While never enthusiastic, she had always accepted his advances graciously – probably out of a sense of wifely duty, he now realized. He had tried not to bother her too often, and for a while, things ran smoothly between them. They were happy. Then she had gotten pregnant, and miscarried almost immediately. Jack had been devastated, heartbroken at the thought of having lost this little life, already so precious to him. He set aside his own sadness, though, to care for her – only to find, to his surprise, that she did not need much comforting. Though she did seem to feel the loss, after the pain had passed she carefully confessed to him that she did not feel a strong desire to have children. If she were to get pregnant again, she would of course be happy, she assured him. But if not… she wouldn't really mind.  
After that, he initiated sex even less often, feeling that he had no right to inflict his desire on her for no good reason. Then the War came, and everything changed. When he came back, he was silent, withdrawn, prone to nightmares, while she had actively taken part in the war effort at home and had grown in confidence and ambition. They had returned to live together, strangers in the same house. It quickly became clear to Jack that they were no longer suited for each other. She was incapable of giving him the warmth and love that might have drawn him out of himself and started the healing process, while he was incapable of being the ambitious, decisive man she wanted beside her. They were no longer who they had been, and their marriage had been empty for years before she finally moved out.

Jack started as Phryne slipped out of her kimono and slid naked under the sheets, shivering as she nestled close to him. He made an effort to turn his thoughts back to the present, but his serious mood lingered, and she seemed to notice.  
"A penny for your thoughts?" she asked quietly, but he just smiled down at her absent-mindedly and kissed the top of her head. She didn't understand what had come over him, but she could sense that something was wrong. Without words, she traced gentle fingers along his neck, his chin, the tense line of his jaw. After a while, he seemed to shake an unpleasant thought and become aware of her touch, looking as if he was only just now seeing her for the first time. He gazed down at her face, turned up to him with a caring and tender expression, her eyes calm and patient as she stroked his hair, gently bringing his attention back to her. When she noticed that he was present again, she gave him a such a beautiful smile that he was suddenly overcome by gratitude, gratitude that she had found him, that she had let him in and shown him a world of warmth, a world of love and mutual pleasure, the possibility of which he had only been dimly aware of. He turned to take her into his arms and held her tight.  
"What's wrong?" she whispered. But instead of answering her he kissed her, slowly, deliberately, a kiss that left her breathless. After a while he broke contact just to look at her, to memorize her face and remember her exactly the way she looked tonight, her eyes dark pools in the half-light of the little lamp on her bedside table, a pink flush on her cheeks and her lips slightly parted after their kiss. He loved her without her make-up, loved how vulnerable she looked without it, as if she had taken off her armor and laid it aside to reveal herself, naked and defenseless, only to his eyes.  
A sudden tight feeling in his throat made him break eye contact – alarmed by the unexpected intensity of his own feelings he gripped her tightly and buried his face in her hair until it passed and he felt he could contain his emotions again. She let him, holding him tight in return, offering wordless comfort without understanding why and without asking. When he released her, she reached up silently to kiss him on the cheek, a gesture that was so sweet and caring that he suddenly wanted nothing in the world except to be with her, to focus on her to the exclusion of everything else, to care for her and love her and show her how much she meant to him. He bent his head to lovingly kiss her hair, then her forehead and her eyes, and she allowed him, without moving, to cover her entire face with kisses. He kissed her nose, the curve of her lips, her perfect cheekbones. He realized how well he knew her, how much he loved every inch of her as he pressed his lips softly to the corner of her jaw, to her throat, the soft skin behind her ear.  
"Could you turn around? Please?" he whispered, and she obeyed him without questions, moved by the earnestness of his request.  
Again, he stopped for a minute to just look at her. He studied the shape of her, the smooth curve of her back, her arms under her head, her face turned away from him, with only a part of a cheek and the hint of her eyelashes visible. Then he bent forwards and kissed the nape of her neck, where the short black hairs made a startling contrast against the ivory glow of her skin. The warmth of his breath made her shiver slightly, and he moved on to kiss the curve between her neck and shoulder, then continued downwards, trailing kisses down her spine. She sighed contentedly and he felt her relax under his touch. He kissed her shoulders. Her shoulder blades. The little dip at the bottom of her spine. He ran his hand over the soft curve of her buttocks, then kissed the sensitive backs of her thighs. The hollow of her knees. Her calves. And very, very carefully, because he knew she was ticklish there, the soles of her feet.  
She turned around without him having to ask her.  
"Jack…" she started softly, but he closed her mouth with another kiss.  
Slowly, he continued his journey down the front of her body, feeling her heartbeat when he pressed his lips to the warm skin of her throat, pressing an extra kiss to the little hollow just above her collarbone. He brushed his lips along her arm, kissed the crook of her elbow, the translucent skin of her wrist, the palm of her hand and each of her fingers, then did the same thing for her other arm. He trailed kisses between her breasts, and he kissed her nipples, but did not linger there. She stirred very slightly under his touch, but otherwise allowed him to continue unhurriedly as he kissed her stomach, her bellybutton and the soft down of her mound. She opened her legs to him, but he only pressed his lips to her an instant before continuing along the delicate skin of her thighs, her knees, her ankles. Finally, he pressed a soft kiss to each of her feet and slowly moved upwards again to take her in his arms.  
Her desire for him had quickly been aroused, as always, but she had noticed his mood and, for once, she had not tried to rush him, but had patiently given herself over to the pleasure, the warmth of his lips on her skin, respecting his need for calm deliberation. But her own longing had built to the point where she shuddered when he pressed his mouth to hers, finally truly engaging with her, exploring her with his tongue as if it was the first time he had ever kissed her. She couldn't keep still anymore, but moaned softly as she turned to press herself against him, encouraging him to continue.  
Like he did every time they made love, Jack marveled at her readiness, her enthusiasm and her obvious enjoyment. He refused to be rushed though, tracing the tip of his tongue along her lips before engaging in another slow, sensual kiss, sinking into it until he felt that he was drowning in her, so close to her that he was losing his sense of self, a connection that went beyond the physical, beyond words like sex or emotion or even love. Words were meaningless in this undefinable sense of belonging. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to dedicate himself to her body and soul – to please her was his only desire, and when he felt her impatience, he gladly gave in to it as his own body responded in kind.  
Kissing her neck he moved downwards until he found a nipple, and she tangled her fingers in his hair as he took it into his mouth and sucked, making her utter little sounds of pleasure that were music to his ears. He took his time, skillfully using his mouth and hands to increase her arousal to the point where she closed her eyes and moaned, shifting her hips in an unconscious rhythm that signaled her desire. Again, he obeyed her without thinking, moving down and kissing the inside of her thighs before pressing his warm mouth to her, and when she gasped loudly, he felt a fierce rush of satisfaction as he began his thorough exploration. He let his tongue run along her folds, eliciting more moans of pleasure from her, and pushed in his tongue, then moved slightly upwards to draw slow circles that were sure to drive her to distraction. Sure enough, when he finally reached the right spot, her reaction was immediate and strong, her breath coming in gasps as she grasped the sheets with both hands and surrendered to him completely. He reveled in the skill he had to make her react like this, knowing what she wanted, what she liked, and how to achieve it. He slightly picked up the pace and held it when her muscles tensed and she began to tremble. He noticed that she held her breath, and suddenly she stilled, then cried out loudly as she convulsed under him, while he slowed down gradually to extend her pleasure as long as possible. He let her recover for a moment or two, then reached up and entered her with two fingers, and she immediately arched her back and inhaled sharply as he pushed upwards, then put his mouth to her again as he continued. Her every breath was a moan now, she threw back her head and shuddered from head to toe as her second climax built quickly and broke over her, leaving her breathless and quivering, but he eased up for only a few seconds before starting again, and she gasped loudly and gripped the sheets convulsively.  
"Jack…" she tried to protest weakly, but he didn't let her continue, and she was rendered helpless under his skillful caresses. He was vaguely aware that he was overcompensating, but he didn't pursue the thought as he focused exclusively on her, his own desire unimportant, deriving his pleasure from hers, indulging in the luxury of being able to bring her such enjoyment. When she started shaking under him again and sobbed out his name, it was pure bliss, and it was with a feeling of regret that he finally slowed down and disengaged, pressing one last careful kiss to her that made her shiver and shift away from him, before sitting up to look at her.  
She lay, utterly spent, among the rumpled satin sheets, and he realized with a shock that she was crying, tears streaming silently over her cheeks. Alarmed, he rushed to take her in his arms and she clung to him as he comforted her with the warmth of his body and the soothing rumble of his voice.  
"Phryne", he whispered, concerned. "What's wrong?"  
She shook her head helplessly and he realized that she had probably picked up on his serious mood and responded instinctively with an unusual emotionality that she couldn't quite understand.  
"I'm sorry", he murmured, stroking her hair. "Too much?"  
"Well… no, but… yes…", she suddenly laughed through her tears. "I don't know what came over me."  
"Did I do something wrong?"  
"No, of course not! I just… it's just…", she seemed to struggle to put her feelings into words, before hiding her face against his chest. "Oh Jack, I'm just happy."  
He felt a warm glow steal through him at those words, mingled with relief. She suddenly looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.  
"Though I don't know _what _possessed you just now. Were you trying to kill me? _Honestly_."  
"Are you okay?" he smiled.  
"Well, yes, just give me a week or so to recover", she sighed.  
"I hope it won't be quite as long as that", he murmured, nuzzling her neck, finally acknowledging his own desire now that she was calm again. She sniffed huffily, and pretended to turn away from him, but he noticed the smile playing around the corners of her mouth and he pulled her closer.  
"Oh, don't you start now", she said in mock indignation as she pushed him away. "I'm _exhausted_, and it's your own fault."  
"Mmm", he rumbled, his lips tantalizingly close to hers. "Are you sure I can't persuade you… somehow?"  
She managed to hold off for one more moment before succumbing to him and sinking into his embrace. She moved her hand down to caress him, but he caught her wrist and wouldn't let her. Then she tried to make him lie back, but again, he wouldn't let her, still intent on pleasing her rather than allowing her to please him.  
"Jack, what are you doing?" she asked him, gently, but he kissed her to stop her from talking and moved to lie on top of her, careful not to put too much weight on her. She stopped struggling then to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him enthusiastically, pressing her hips against him urgently, showing him that she wanted him. He obeyed the pressure gladly, guiding himself confidently to her opening, his own breath coming fast as his excitement rose sharply, then he thrust inside her with one quick, fluid movement that drew a soft cry of pleasure from her lips. He gasped at the heat and wetness of her, the well-known feeling that was ever new and satisfying, and as he thrust in again, hard and deep, she arched her back to meet him. When she wrapped her legs around him to take him in deeper, he felt a rush of joy at her enthusiasm, and a sudden return of his apprehension that he shouldn't, in his own pleasure, forget her needs. So he shifted his body slightly until he could move his hand between them and placed his thumb on a certain spot between her soft curls. She gasped and stilled, catching his hand and pulling it away, breaking their rhythm.  
"Jack, stop it", she said, breathing fast, concern in her eyes. She firmly kept hold of his hand as he tried to pull free. "No, don't. Darling…" She placed a gentle hand against his cheek. "Look at me. You're allowed to enjoy yourself too, you know. Please…" She touched her lips to his. "Please just let go."  
She said it so earnestly that he finally felt his resistance break. He allowed her to push him onto his back and surrendered to her as she came to lie on top of him, kissing his chest and his throat. He sighed and encircled her in his arms, holding her close as she guided him in and pressed downwards, making them both moan. He closed his eyes and groaned as he finally allowed pleasure to wash over him, consuming him completely, his mind empty of all thought as he bucked his hips to take her deeper, thrusting in again and again with utter abandon. When he felt the tension build, he did not try to control it, but surrendered to it gladly, allowing it to run its course until everything was fire, and he let go while crying out her name.

For several long moments afterwards, he was barely aware of his surroundings as he tried to catch his breath, his mind gloriously blank and suffused with a pleasant sort of fog. Then he became aware of the slight weight of Phryne's body on his, and he hugged her closely, smiling blissfully as he kissed her hair. She looked up at him and smiled back.  
"You're wonderful", he whispered, still basking in the afterglow.  
"I know", she replied smugly, then slid off him to nestle her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He stretched luxuriously and happily allowed her to drape an arm over his chest and intertwine a leg with his. When she was comfortable, she allowed him a few moments of peace before looking up at him.  
"So… care to tell me what that was all about? Why the sudden need for self-sacrifice?"  
He hesitated, not sure of how much he should tell her, what would be appropriate. "It was nothing… just something I was struggling with."  
"Yes, I'd figured that out on my own", she replied tartly. Then her demeanor softened. "Darling, you do know I think you're marvelous, don't you?"  
He sighed. "Sometimes that's hard to accept. It's difficult to know when to stop, when it's enough…"  
"You think too much", she smiled.  
"Well, I'm not arguing with that", he smiled back.  
"Don't overthink this", she continued softly. "You know so well what to do, you always do. Don't let your worries get in the way of that." She lifted her head to look at him. "You're _allowed _to be selfish every once in a while. There's nothing wrong with that. Your pleasure is just as important as mine."  
He looked back at her, clearly not convinced that that was true. She sighed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to get through to him right now.  
"Look," she said, laying her head back down and shifting even closer to him. "You don't have to tell me what suddenly brought on this feeling of inadequacy on your part, I don't need to know. But please just talk to me the next time something's bothering you. I was caught completely off guard. Not that it wasn't very pleasant", she smiled.  
He chuckled with a soft rumble in his chest, and they were both silent for a moment or two. Then she suddenly sat up with a purposeful expression on her face, and before he knew it she was on top of him again, sitting astride his stomach, her hands on his chest, an earnest, appealing look in her eyes as she looked into his.  
"What are you doing?" he asked, amused.  
"Making sure I have your full attention", she replied, unabashed. "Because this is important. For there is one thing you seem not to realize, Jack Robinson, and that is that your pleasure is just as important to me as mine is to you. If you like to make sure I'm satisfied, that is equally true for me. I don't think you've quite thought of that, have you? And if you don't allow me to do anything for you, you're denying me the pleasure of spoiling you, which I love to do", she purred seductively as she leaned forward to kiss him.  
He looked at her in wonder as his perspective shifted drastically. Was it really the same for her as it was for him?  
"Will you allow me that?" she asked quietly, trailing her fingers through his hair.  
"I'll try", he replied earnestly, and she grinned as she slid off him.  
"Good", she teased him. "That's really _all _I'm asking for, you know, that you relax and enjoy yourself every once in a while. I hope you can find it in yourself to fulfill that arduous task whenever you have the strength for it."  
He laughed. "I'm sure I'll be able to manage that."  
She threw him a tender look, then returned to her usual brisk manner as she stepped out of the bed. "I think I can use another bath. Care to join me?"  
"When have I ever said no to that?" he smiled, eagerly getting out of bed to follow her to the bathroom. But he caught her halfway across the room and pulled her close from behind, closing his arms around her stomach and nuzzling her ear.  
"Thank you", he whispered. She leaned her head back against his shoulder in a wordless 'you're welcome'. "And you know", he continued, teasing. "If you're very good, I won't move again tonight and you can do whatever you like with me later."  
She turned, her eyes bright, to throw him her most seductive look. "I must say I like the sound of that, Inspector."  
He smiled again as he kissed her.


End file.
